


Echoes of the Past

by Gigapoodle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, MEGA ANGSTY, Team as Family, Torture, be prepared for that, i just wanna re-emphasize the fact that this is ANGSTY, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigapoodle/pseuds/Gigapoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was his fault. He shouldn’t have retreated – he should have ran after them, Galra forces be damned, and ripped the red paladin right out of his weaponized hands, shooting the commander dead on the spot.</p><p>But he hadn’t. Lance stood there, frozen with adrenaline and fear, before backing out with tears in his eyes, justifying it to himself by saying, ‘he won’t get far, we can easily get him back once I have Voltron with me.’</p><p>He’d forgotten they didn’t have Voltron. He’d forgotten that without Keith, Voltron was nothing.</p><p>Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm back with more Voltron angst because I can't stop myself. This fic was supposed to be like 16k but it blew up to 28k because I can't control myself so I hope you liked it because I put a lot of work into this 
> 
> My goal was to make this as angsty as possible so like let me know if I did that because i have no idea
> 
> If you want a song to listen to while you read it here's 'Ant in Alaska' by Liz Phair I listened to it a lot while writing this and I think the lyrics are like super fitting for the fic so if you want some angsty late night acoustic guitar here you go - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9CMUAYxkUw
> 
> Enjoy!

“What are you doing?”

Lance was staring at a humanoid-esque alien in front of one of the market vendors. Their blue skin and oddly-scaly body apparently did nothing to deter the paladin in blue from scoping out his chances. Just like it hadn’t with the yellow-tailed alien with a thin, elongated neck, and just like it hadn’t with the alien with an exoskeleton thicker than steel. It seems nothing could deter Lance from his recent onslaught of flirtatious thirst.

Which really, really, really bothered Keith.

“Just lookin’,” Lance mumbled, refusing to take his eyes off of the scaly creature. They were in the middle of a marketplace, flooded with aliens of innumerable species, on a quick mission to retrieve some important plants for a medicine Coran wanted to brew – but of course Lance wasn’t going to make this easy for anybody involved.

Which, again, really, really, really bothered Keith.

“Well, if you want to flirt with them so badly, why don’t you just go and get rejected already so we can go and find what we’re here for.” Keith could feel his anger rising to his cheeks, flushing him with a weird sense of frustration, embarrassment, and jealousy – all of which he tried to hide by crossing his arms and turning away from Lance.

“Woah woah woah,” Lance ushered, finally making the effort to turn to Keith. “What’s your deal today? If all we’re doing is finding some dumb plant, we might as well have _fun_ while we’re at it.” He shot out a toothy grin that Keith refused to look at.

“My _deal_ is,” Keith spat, shoulders hunched forcefully, “That you flirt with anything that can move, despite the fact that it’s gotten you in danger multiple times. If anything, you’ve been doing it _more_.”

Lance threw his arms out carelessly, shrugging off the concern like a breeze in the wind. “So? Just because I’ve had one or two bad incidents doesn’t mean all aliens are bad. Guess I’m just a pretty trustworthy guy.”

“Yeah, well,” Keith gritted his teeth at his inability to think of a proper response. “Whatever. Suit yourself.” He trudged forward through the thick crowd, not even bothering to shove away the stranded limbs blocking his way, leaving Lance in the dust.

Or so was the intended effect. But Lance wasn’t going to allow himself to be so easily dusted.

“What are you-“ He stumbled as he tripped over a random tentacle belonging to a very disgruntled alien – “Where are you going?? We are supposed to be doing this mission _together_ , Keith!”

“You’re right, we are, Lance!” Keith kept marching forward through the blood beating in his ears. “And we’d probably be able to do this mission together if you could just stop _flirting_ for five seconds and focus!”

He felt a gloved hand wrap around his wrist, tightly gripping his paladin armor, and Keith was whirled around against his will in order to face a surprisingly hurt-looking Lance. All of the blood pulsing through his ears lodged itself in his throat when he finally made eye contact with the thousand unreadable emotions in Lance’s eyes.

“Dude.” Lance’s voice was calm, steady, and yet there was an underlying sense of trepidation. “Why does it matter to you if I flirt so much?”

The feelings that Keith tried to avoid like a cursed plague were thrown into his face with such force that he had to blink twice in order to make sure that he was seeing straight. He didn’t _want_ it to matter, and it shouldn’t – Lance was a flirt, a natural socialite who could (at least attempt to) charm any species over. It was in his blood to be this kind of person. He loved to talk, he loved to laugh at jokes in languages he didn’t understand, and he especially loved to throw compliments in the direction of anything with legs, sometimes even without. That was Lance, the blue paladin, the right leg of Voltron, the cargo pilot a level below Keith’s own just a short lifetime ago.

But it did matter, and Keith absolutely hated that it mattered. He hated that feeling in the pit of his stomach that smoldered disturbingly whenever Lance preened over a new target, or whenever he swooned when someone giggled at his jokes, or whenever he told them he would ‘do his best to meet them again whenever they came back’ to the planet of the day. He hated the fact that his flirting was slowly becoming more of a dominant trait, how he used to be able to keep himself tame, but now charged into any alien with reckless abandon. He hated the fact that whenever he overheard Lance’s stupid jokes, Keith sometimes had to stifle a chuckle because he found it genuinely amusing. He hated it all, so much, with a passion that burned his ears and clamped his throat shut with embarrassment and nervousness.

He hated it all because somehow, despite himself, he _loved_ it all, and he hated how it wasn’t directed at him.

Somewhere along the line, Lance had stopped being annoying and started becoming humorous. His cocky grin stopped being unbearable and started brightening Keith’s very passive days. His jerky, showoff pilot skills stopped being a poor showcase for Voltron and started weaving their way between Galra ships, saving Keith’s ass on more than one occasion (and, admittedly, started being on-par with Keith’s own skills).

Somewhere along the line, Keith stopped hating Lance and started wondering when he had fallen so hard, so quietly but with the force of a thousand suns.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not when the feeling wasn’t mutual, and especially not when Lance had clearly devoted himself to swooning over others - and not when Keith wondered if he ever even stood a chance.

Keith stared into those crystalline blue eyes, flooded with emotions that Keith didn’t even want to comprehend, and grunted out a strained, dry lie - ‘ _it doesn’t matter to me_ ’ - stuck in place but miles ahead in his own thoughts.

Those eyes flickered, just for a moment; but then Lance was back to his sense of bravado, puffing his chest out mockingly as he strode forward without Keith. “Fine. If it doesn’t matter to you, then don’t be such a baby about it whenever I do it.”

Keith gritted his teeth and trailed generously behind Lance. He was right about one thing; Keith was being an absolute child about the situation, and it was all his fault. His inner temper tantrum was slowly oozing out into the world, with Keith barely able to contain it as Lance kept drifting farther away from him, but he also couldn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t going to ruin the integrity of Voltron over some silly ‘crush’ he could smolder if he tried hard enough, and he wasn’t going to value the life of one person over the rest of the universe, even if that’s what his heart demanded of him.

With little grace, Keith shook off the emotions hazing over him and continued onward, trying his best to focus on the mission and failing miserably.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith had been in his room ever since they got back from the mission. This wasn’t particularly unusual, as Keith was naturally isolative and liked to hide out in his private alcove on this floating ship among the oceans of stars. What was unusual was the fact that he had ignored everyone on the way to his room, and he had skipped team dinner, which was a rarity even for him. Everyone knew that team dinner was a must in order to help build the bonds that were needed to form Voltron, and skipping it was detrimental to everyone on the team.

He was well aware of this, but Keith didn’t care at the moment. He was blinded by his own bitter, confused emotions, and forcing himself to have a pleasant conversation with Lance was not something he wanted to do. Instead, he was writing in the journal Shiro had given him early on in their crusade, scribbling dark, blotchy lines onto the thin paper in an attempt to purge his mind of these thoughts once and for all.

There was a knock on his door, which Keith promptly ignored.

“Keith? Are you in there?” The voice was oddly composed, considering who it was coming from, and Keith almost lost his willpower from the softness of it alone.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Lance,” he bit back, gripping his pen tight in frustration.

There was more knocking, this time urgent and determined. “Considering that _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to be immature, you’re acting like a real baby right now! Just talk to me, god damnit!”

Keith glanced back down at the paper, reading his emotional vomit and feeling the bile rising once more in his mouth. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He had to put his feelings onto the paper, forget about them, and move on from this feeling that rotted his core so punishingly.

When he didn’t answer, Keith heard the rapid-fire knocking stop, followed by a swift kick to the metal. Keith heard him mumble “you’re an idiot” just before he abandoned the project altogether, stomping away in a huff.

Lance was right. Keith was an idiot – but he was a pragmatic one, one who put Voltron above everything else, including himself. Give him two days, and this would all be water under the bridge.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, and Keith had made no progress in suffocating the burning pit in his stomach.

They were all flying in their lions, readying themselves for a ground attack against the Galra. All were quiet, each member mentally preparing themselves for an inevitably long, endless slog towards liberating this planet from the Galra’s evil clutch. The only sound in Keith’s ears was the light hum of his lion and the empty beeps of buttons on autopilot.

He opened a private channel towards Lance, who glanced at his own screen with surprise but made no further motion.

“I’m sorry,” Keith stated, forcing the words off of his burdened chest. He meant them, too – but he also felt as if he was lying to himself, like he was submitting an apology that he hadn’t earned.

“I have been acting immature lately.” Keith forces himself to slow his breathing, to bite back the words he really wants to say. “For the sake of Voltron, I won’t do that again, ok? You can count on me for this next mission.”

Lance creased his eyebrows, but made no sound. When the silence began to stretch too long, Keith shut off the feed and slumped in his chair, defeated.

 

 

* * *

 

“HERE!”

Keith barely heard Lance’s screams over the sound of rapid fire lasers, diving quickly behind the rock that Lance had just pointed out. His landing was rough, bound to leave a nasty, painful bruise on his rib when the adrenaline ran off – but for now he was running high on survival, based on a plan that was deteriorating before their eyes.

The two were tasked with dismantling the base’s force fields so that Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro could swoop in on the offensive and drive the Galra back. It wasn’t supposed to be easy, but the two found themselves being quickly overwhelmed by unanticipated reinforcements that kept flooding out of the base. Now, they were behind this cragged, desert rock, strains of blood leaking from small cuts across their faces, scrambling to find a way out of this mess.

Lance peeked around the rock for only a second before he was bombarded by violet lasers, blasting a chip off of the rock behind where his head once was. “I don’t know if we can handle all of these forces with just the two of us,” he moaned, carelessly smearing blood across his cheek with a wipe of his forearm.

“Doesn’t matter.” Keith gripped his bayard with barbarity, eyeing it as it grew back into his crimson sword. “Shiro and everyone are depending on us. We can get through them.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Lance was gaping at him, shocked and mildly annoyed. “There are at least dozens of forces pouring out of that base right now, you can’t possibly expect us to just ‘get through them’-“

Keith was roaring alive before Lance could finish, dashing out from behind the rock in a blaze of glory. The lasers pelted pathetically against his blue shield, and he burst forward towards the incoming soldiers with unwavering fury, slashing the first two that dared to approach him into the ground.

“God dammit!” Lance screamed, more to himself, as he threw his gun over the top of the rock, positioning himself to snipe away at any stragglers trying to sneak up on the red paladin. His help wasn’t terribly needed though, as Keith was positively on fire, hacking away at the Galra with a sense of agility that Lance, while used to it, still found himself awed by all the same.

Despite their previous argument, the two slid into their positions flawlessly, fighting back the Galra with an impressive amount of skill. It was as if Keith knew when to slide away in order to allow Lance a free shot on an unprepared soldier, as if Lance knew when to assist Keith with a kill that was harder than anticipated. Although some soldiers aimed for the blue paladin stationed behind the rock, most charged for the paladin spaced in the open desert plateau, thinking he would be an easier target to get rid of, considering how reckless and uncovered he was.  They may have been right on paper, but they were wrong about Keith – his fury was unrivaled, fueling his senses into overdrive and allowing him to sense movements that no human could possibly be able to hear, making it easy for him to take out foes trying to sabotage his attack.

Lance could feel the echoes of past envy course though his mind; watching Keith glide behind enemies, slicing them as if they were merely paper with a brutal sense of finesse – for a split second, he genuinely hated Keith, hated the impossibly high bar that he forced Lance to jump over at the Garrison, hated the fact that he was the scapegoat once Keith left the academy, only used for comparisons to the star student who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. But the moment passed, and despite the savagery of the battle, Lance was enamored, finding beauty in Keith’s quick and agile movements. It was only in these moments that Lance had the brevity to watch Keith, to confront his own emotions and admit to himself that this feeling in his chest was not just a small, easily-forgotten crush. It was love, and pride, and a sense of _need_ that refused to go away, no matter how much Lance tried to flirt it out of his system – and it hurt, so damn much, because Lance was scared of his own feelings and refused to act on them in any manner other than to annoy Keith and to just hope this gut feeling will fade away.

He knew that he was the reason for their argument, and he knew that he was the actual baby in the situation – but he couldn’t help it. Not when Keith tempted him with those sharp, lavender eyes, causing rockslides in Lance’s heart that crushed his sense of rationality. He _had_ to flirt, to pick at and annoy the boy with the mullet, because anything else would rip him apart and make him realize how truly _gone_ he was, how completely and utterly smitten he was by Keith.

A shrill cry howled from the red paladin and Lance realized he had been rutted in his own head for far too long. Worried, Lance immediately aimed at the new target, only to stumble back in a blind panic at the new battlefield he was thrown into.

The Galra were charging at him. All of them, even the ones that had been previously lunging themselves at Keith – they were gunning for his body, fangs bared, ready to jump at any moment. And just behind them, Keith was fighting back against a Galra commander, two times his size and throwing Keith around like a ragdoll.

“You’re got power,” the commander growled, slamming his weaponized gauntlets against each other in a showcase of strength. “More than I would expect from a species as weak as yours.”

Lance tried to scream, but it fell on blood-rushed ears as Keith lunged at the broad –shouldered Galra, who swiftly dodged with ease and brought a knee up to stab Keith right in the chest. Keith barked in pain, coughing up generous globs of blood as he slid to his knees, clutching his center tightly. Lance himself was surrounded by enemies who wanted him dead, too overwhelmed to help Keith, trying desperately to shoot himself a pathway to the red paladin on the ground, all in vain.

The commander towered over him, observing curiously as Keith grasped at his chest, tears beginning to form in his eyes. When Keith looked up, staring ferocious daggers at the Galra figure, he merely grinned to himself, reaching behind his back to grab a mysterious serum hinged on his belt.

“Zarkon told me you fought with too much bloodthirst to be a human. Yes, he was right – I can see it now, in your eyes, the need to _kill_.” He hooked the serum into a slot in his gauntlet, activating a small needle that poked out of the front. “We prepared this just for you, red paladin, in order to unlock your _true_ potential. Finally, you will realize what you truly are.”

Before Keith could scream in protest, the needle was shoved into his arm, injecting searing hot liquid into his system. Scarlet red flashed in his vision, and his skin bubbled all over, infested with a newfound plague that racked his skin with a shade of purple and new bouts of grimy hair. His teeth threatened to burst out of his mouth, sharpening themselves with enough edge to cut his own tongue, and he tasted blood in his mouth as he screamed wildly, thrashing in the hold of the Galra commander. He almost passed out from pain before the commander shook him awake, still grinning sinisterly.

“So you do have some Galra in you,” he purred, holding the limped body up for all to see. “What a shame you didn’t harness this potential until now.”

Lance was barreling through the Galra forces, reaching a hand out to the fallen paladin held weakly in the air. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?” He screamed wildly, tears threatening to drift from his dried eyes. “YOU’VE TURNED HIM INTO A MONSTER! DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM-“

He froze in place at the sinister cackle that pierced the thick, bloody air. “Don’t you see, blue paladin?” He questioned, flipping a barely-conscious Keith over his shoulder with little effort. “He was this _monster_ all along. I just expedited the process of revealing it to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be taking him with me now, since he _does_ belong to me.”

A blur of motion went under Lance’s vision and the red bayard was slid across the rough dirt, coughing up dust along the way. “DON’T COME FOR ME!” Keith howled, with what little strength he had. “You still have the lion and the bayard. You can find a new paladin. Don’t try to find-“

A guttural scream, followed by more coughed-up blood, promptly knocked Keith unconscious. “No need to scream so loudly,” the commander mewled, turning his back to the blue paladin and setting off for the base. “They know you’re worthless now that they’ve seen your true form. But with us? You might be something _more._ ”

Lance wanted to run, to destroy that commander and drag Keith back into his lion, but the forces were overwhelming him and he knew he had no choice but to retreat. With tears drowning his face and blood smearing his cheeks, he turned away, opening a feed with his helmet to request immediate backup.

He could feel his heart breaking in two when he heard the menacing cackle of the commander, drifting away into the desert sun.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith woke up to searing pain from all corners of his body.

Instinctively, he tried to thrash forward, to put pressure on the most prominent injuries in his body, but he was met with even more pain, searing from all sorts of wounds he didn’t even know he had. He forced himself to lay back down, waiting for the pain to slowly ebb itself out of his system, before he steeled his willpower and gingerly moved his left hand, tracing his body to try and mentally take note of his injuries.

They had put him in prisoner clothes, the same garb that Shiro had worn that day they discovered him after crash-landing on earth, and the fabric felt surprisingly soft under his fingers. He was sure to have a few broken ribs, as even ghosting his chest caused him to flinch and suffer. His right arm was somehow uninjured, but his fingers were scarred, caked with dried blood and nasty scabs that were potentially infected. He had a bruise on his cheek that already felt sore, still able to taste faint iron on his tongue. Otherwise, his body was littered with scratches and bruises that weren’t serious enough to consider.

What _was_ considerable to him was the sudden revelation that he was part Galra. His fingers, in their journey to find subtle injuries, traced instead over bouts of thick, purple fur. Glossing over his head found new ears, much more sensitive to sound than before, wide and bat-like, buried under his thick mop of hair. Even his eyes felt different – though he had no ability to see what they looked like, he had no doubt they were the same tinge of yellow that all Galra forces had.

All this time, he thought he was a part of the good guys, working with Voltron to save the universe. But in the end, he was the enemy, the enemy that had tortured his greatest friend and destroyed thousands of homes across the universe, with no care for the ashes they left behind.

There was too much to think about. He had so many questions, and so little answers, and he needed medical treatment, now-

From outside of his darkened room, he heard footsteps scrape against a metal ground. Naturally, he reached for his knife, only to find it (and its matching holster) absent from his hip. A latch unlocked, and the thick metal door slowly glided open, revealing the same commander from before, grinning all the same.

Keith’s instinct was to lunge at him and strangle his pathetic life out of his throat, but his body immediately groaned at the thought, forcing him to stay dormant lest he crack his ribs any further.

“You’re finally up,” he murmured, with an amusement that pricked Keith’s thick skin. “Took you long enough. You may be strong for a human, but you certainly are weak for a Galra.”

Keith tilted his head sideways and spat on the ground. “I am _nothing_ like you demons.”

“Ah, but you _are_.” He leaned against the frame and examined the beaten body that lay on the floor in front of him. “You’ve got the most important trait that flows in Galra blood – _the thirst for more blood._ ” The commander chuckled when Keith lamely tried to protest. “Do not try to deny it. The evidence is everywhere you look. But I did not come here to talk about your newfound heritage.”

With an odd sense of leisureness that set Keith on edge, the commander pushed off of the frame and strolled up to Keith, kneeling beside his bruised body. “My name is Zortok. I will be in charge of you while you are our _guest_. Cooperate, and this will be an easy time for you. Refuse, and I will remind you of how bloodthirsty your brethren can be.”

Keith refused to look at him.

“I see you’re going to take the hard route.” Zortok sighed with discontentment. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell us anything about Voltron, or perhaps where you were hiding that pesky lion? It would make my job much easier.”

In a move of blatant defiance, Keith stared him in the eye for the first time and spat at his face, a mixture of spit and blood splattering his face.

Zortok didn’t flinch; he merely wiped the bile off of his face with his forearm, making a disgusted noise as he did so. “You’re getting extra punishment because of that.” He stood up from his crouched position and stared down at Keith. “I’m going to get that information out of you – even if I have to beat you to a bloody mess to do it.”

Next thing he knew, Keith was blinded by metal, the punch cracking his cheekbone and sending him back into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance woke up surrounded by worried faces, only given a moment to register before he was roughly ejected out of the healing pod.

He was weak, and they were prodding him for answers already, about where Keith was, why Lance hadn’t come back with him, why the plan failed – all gusts of words, whipping at him violently yet still going over his head. They needed to know, and Lance understood that he had to be the one to tell them, but at the moment, only two thoughts looped in his head, like a VCR, damaged and on constant repeat;

_Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone._

It was his fault. He shouldn’t have retreated – he should have ran after them, Galra forces be damned, and ripped the red paladin right out of his weaponized hands, shooting him dead on the spot.

But he hadn’t. He stood there, frozen with adrenaline and fear, before backing out with tears in his eyes, justifying it to himself by saying, ‘ _he won’t get far, we can easily get him back once I have Voltron with me.’_

He’d forgotten they didn’t have Voltron. He’d forgotten that without Keith, Voltron was _nothing_.

_Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone._

They stopped asking questions once they realized how dazed he was, chalking it up to a natural exhaustion that the healing pods couldn’t soothe. Which was somewhat true – his bones felt sore, and he had a headache, whether from physical injury or mental exhaustion he didn’t know. But what he did know, was that his heart wanted to tear itself apart, and that was the worst pain of all.

He had cried all the way back in his lion before he collapsed into the pod. Once he was back in his room, truly alone with his thoughts, he was sure to cry again, and again, and again.

_Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone._

 

* * *

 

 

It hurt. Everything hurt.

Maybe Keith had gotten too accustomed to the availability of the healing pods – any major injuries could be relatively patched up with a day in the pod, popping out the paladins like slightly burnt toast. In the desert, he was used to treating his own injuries, slowly learning his way around basic first-aid to a point where he could tourniquet himself if he needed to. Yet, it was clear he wasn’t going to get that utility here, and now he was suffering, rubbing the side of his ribcage in a futile attempt to apply pressure to an undercover wound.

They couldn’t kill him – that much he knew. He had valuable information about the one foil to the Galra’s plans. They could beat him to a bloody pulp all they wanted, but they could never land the killing blow, and that alone gave him enough confidence to keep resisting.

Keith made his ideas about his potential capture very well known for the paladins; _leave him behind, find a new paladin for the Red Lion. The life of one member of Voltron wasn’t more valuable than the lives of the entire universe_. They’d listen to him, they’d understand his pragmatism about the issue. He could withstand this torture as long as he knew that the Red Lion was out of Galra hands, ready and armed for a new pilot to test its fire.

He could deal with it, because they cared about him, and they would follow his death wish, as much as they might not have wanted to.

The familiar screech of metal scraping against the ground signified Zortok’s arrival, as he slammed the door open with less patience than before.

“Are you going to talk today?” He was gruff today, and the way that he slit his eyes at Keith would have sent shivers down a weaker person’s spine.

But Keith was strong, strong for Voltron and strong for the universe. He simply turned away and awaited the inevitable metal grip around his arm, dragging him away to his punishment of the day.

 

* * *

 

 

“And you’re sure of this?”

Shiro was staring at Lance, gaze hardened and emotionless, trying his best not to overreact to the situation before him. The rest of the crew were in similar predicaments, still reeling from the new information thrown into their faces like a live firecracker.

“Yeah. He’s Galra. I saw it.” Lance stared at the ground from his seated position on the couch, gaze equally hardened, his eyes tinged with a wetness from tears shed not too long ago. He swallowed thickly, fiddling his thumbs with an anxiety that rooted itself deep in his core.

This was not a conversation he wanted to be having, especially not when everything felt so raw. But it wasn’t fair for him to hide something so…..important, even if it potentially confirmed his worst fears – that they would hate Keith, abandon him, leave him to the dogs to rot for himself.

He didn’t think they would do that. They’d known Keith for way too long at this point, and they knew he would _never_ turn his back on Voltron. Long ago, in a similar situation, they had risked everything to save Allura, throwing them all into separate wormholes that left them all with their own personal scars, physical and otherwise. This shouldn’t be different. It wouldn’t be different. _Right?_

Pidge was the one to break the awkward silence, asking the question no one else dared to ask. “Do you think he’ll….side with them? Now that he’s Galra?”

Shiro stroked his chin, creasing his eyebrows with an intensity that was new to Lance. “I don’t think so. But who knows what that serum did to him….it might have wiped out all of his humanity. He could be the enemy now.”

“No.” Lance shoved himself off of the couch, too antsy to stay still, beginning a hurried pace around the circled couches. “He may be Galra, but he’s still Keith. We _have_ to go save him.”

Hunk seemed the most conflicted out of all of them, habitually chewing his nails with tepid nervousness. “I don’t know, man,” he mumbled through his nipped fingers. “If he’s Galra….there’s a chance he could have always been a spy. I don’t….. _know_ if rescuing him is the smartest option-“

“Not you too, Hunk!” Lance’s arms were in the air, his pacing growing more and more agitated with each rising protest. “Come on guys, it’s _Keith_. He couldn’t lie his way out of a paper bag. Even if he is technically Galra, he’s still the red paladin, and he’s still our _friend!_ ”

Hunk was not entirely convinced, gnawing on his nails with a rising sense of anxiety. “I know that, Lance, and I absolutely super want to believe that Keith isn’t bad, but we have to consider the option that maybe, he-“

“That’s enough.” Allura was standing strong behind the couches, towering over the rest of the paladins. “Though the Galra may be our enemy, Keith has been our trusted friend since the beginning of Voltron. I refuse to believe that he would turn against us just because he found out he wasn’t entirely human.”

And that was that. Allura’s words always managed to have an inspirational impact on the Paladins. Hunk stopped chewing his nails, and Lance stood proud, watching the other paladins come around to their senses. Though many still harbored their own doubts (he could tell Shiro was especially struggling with this revelation), he knew that all wanted to believe in their teammate, their _friend_ , and none wanted to abandon him to Galra forces.

“Alright.” Pidge jumped off the couch with a newfound eagerness, their glasses glinting under the Altean ship’s mythical veins of light blue. “Now we’ve just got to find him. Coran – let’s go check out the star map and see if we can modify the system to tell us where he might be.”

Pidge turned on his heel and sprinted out the door with a boundless energy that inspired Lance to follow, even if he hadn’t been directly asked to. Coran and Lance chased behind Pidge, Lance’s heart filled with hope for the first time in days. Although he still had many tears to shed, and he absolutely would in time, right now he was desperate for action, for a solution to the problems he had thrown upon himself just because he refused to be honest.

When they finally retrieved Keith, Lance promised himself that the first thing he would do is tell Keith everything.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith’s given a lot of time in between interrogations, which allows him plenty of time to think about the sudden change in direction his life has taken as of late.

The most blaring one is the fact that he is Galra; or half-Galra, which he figured out through experimentation. It seems that the serum has awakened some recessive genes in his body, because his automatic state of being is purple-skinned and bat-eared – if he focuses, he can revert to his human state, but he chooses to stay Galra in order to conserve what little energy he has. He thinks his vision has improved, although everything is defined by lackluster colors and shapes in his weakened form, and he knows he can hear better, because he can sense the echo of approaching footsteps long before they set foot in front of his door. Keith’s skin is thicker, and he seems to recover faster, not that he notices this too much; nothing feels like recovery when your breathing is labored and your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.

The biggest trait that worries him is this lingering crave to _fight_. Keith wasn’t actually bloodthirsty, and he never derived much pleasure from killing his enemies; but after Zortok’s words and some reflection, he realized (with much reluctance) that Zortok was right. He _did_ enjoy the thrill of the hunt, and he did enjoy picking out fights, even if he was somewhat disgusted by the kill. It pulsed in his veins every time Zortok rounded him up for interrogation, and although Keith hated this newfound trait, he used it to his advantage, feeding this sense of savagery into his willpower to fight the Galra, to resist every punishment they would throw at him for rebelling against the empire.

Keith wondered if Voltron would be proud of him. Or, he wondered if they would be disgusted by him, now that it was obvious that his recklessness was not just some ‘bad habit of his’, but an inherent part of his blood that sent him rabid when a fight was imminent. He remembered, some time ago during training, when Shiro had mentioned how he was ‘much quicker to sense an oncoming foe’ and how he ‘always seemed a little too eager to fight’. Although he said it with an odd sense of pride at the time, Keith wondered if he would be angry, or maybe even terrified, now that he knew that the reason he was so good at fighting was because of his muddied blood.

It didn’t matter. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want them coming after him. All he could do was hold out for as long as they could until a new red paladin was ordained – that was his new duty to the universe now, and Keith will be damned if he goes down without a fight.

The door slides open. Zortok walks in, ready to get this over with.

“You gonna talk today?”

Keith spits at the ground and smirks, making direct eye contact all the way.

It only takes a few seconds for him to be dragged out of room against his will, ready for another round in the pit.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been days since they started their search of the galaxy, and Lance hasn’t been able to sleep through any of them.

He sits in front of the vast map of digital stars, fingers flipping through the galaxies mindlessly as they dance across the room, almost endless in number, deceptively small in his hand but much too grand in reality. They’ve been searching for days and they’ve barely even scratched the surface, what few leads they had already torn to shreds. Allura had implanted a tracking device in every suit in case a situation like this occurred; but Keith, paranoid and isolative Keith, had somehow discovered his tracker and ripped it apart. When they tried to locate it, they found its torn wires on the ground of Keith’s locker, blipping to life with a false alarm that appropriately smothered any hope Lance had at that point.

Sitting in front of the star map used to make Lance homesick. He can still remember the exact coordinates of earth, after asking Coran one too many times for help with the projector, and if he wanted, he could type in the numbers and observe the pixelated blurp of blue in his hand; he could imagine the fresh salt air of the beach and the exhilarating rush of water as he slipped off of his board, crashing into the waves, drifting in aquamarine suspension only for a few moments before floating back up to the surface, looking up to see a beating sun in a cloudless sky. He could imagine all of these things and more from his home, all of the things he unwittingly left behind in order to protect the family that didn’t even know they needed protecting.

That’s not what he wanted right now. He was homesick, but in a less tangible, more futuristic sense. With all of its ups and downs, this was his new home now, and Lance had been slowly picking up the sticks, assembling them, weaving them together in order to make a new nest for himself. Somehow, Keith had weaved himself into the blueprints for the nest, not completely built-in but meant to be an integral part of the structure given time. But now Keith was gone, and the nest was simply a husk, full of dead leaves and unfulfilled ideals. He was homesick for the home he had built up in his head, the home he never thought he could actually have until now, and every glimpse at the fake blue stars above him reminded him just how badly he had fucked up.

He missed Keith. He missed jabbing him with stupid puns about his hair and he missed annoying the life out of him, because his face got all weird and scrunched when Lance went a little too far and it shouldn’t be cute, but it was. He missed the way Keith would _actually_ blush when Lance decided to throw him a bone and compliment him, and it made him wonder why he didn’t do that more often. He missed the arm to his leg, the red to his blue, the pragmatic recklessness that contrasted with his trusting collectedness.

Last time they had talked, Lance refused Keith’s apology because it forced him to realize that his flirtations were just a distraction from how he really felt. Lance was a fool, a damn fool who couldn’t swallow his pride, and even though his eyes were sagging terribly with the weight of sleeplessness and his body slumped much too heavily, he would keep marching, trying to redeem the sins he had placed upon himself.

 _Spin the stars left, spin them right, left, right, left, right_. Somewhere out there, Keith was being held, and Lance was going to find him. Galra heritage be _damned_ , he was still Keith, and Lance _had_ to believe he was still Keith. All he could do was hope that Keith wouldn’t be too mad about Lance abandoning him for so long. Once he got his grip on Keith, Lance would make sure to never, ever let go again – once he got that grip, he’d make sure to properly add that stick to his nest, and finally complete his new home, before the twig could snap in half and slip out of his grasp.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith hates himself when he feels the first inch of his resolve slipping from his grasp.

It comes in the form of a thought; ‘ _Are they going to come and rescue me?_ ’ – and Keith reflexively slaps himself for allowing it to slip through the cracks. He can’t afford to have those thoughts, not when he had clearly told the members of Voltron not to come for him, not when his life was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Those kind of thoughts were poison to his already-plagued veins, aching from the pain of days (weeks?) of punishment. Despite all of the pain, the bruised and cracked cheekbones he wore and the damaged, half-broken ribs that refused to stop creaking whenever he moved, he had to stay strong.

When Zortok made his annual appearance, Keith refused to answer his question. All he had the willpower to do was stare at the ceiling until he was inevitably dragged away from the small comfort his tiny cell brought him.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been about a month since Keith was captured, and Lance is wondering whether or not to ask Shiro about Galra imprisonment.

He’s wanted to for a while, but he knows that Shiro is traumatized from his experience, and up until now he was able to sate his curiosity in different ways. But too much time has passed, and Lance isn’t naïve enough to believe that they’re treating Keith like a king. Really, Lance does not want to put this on Shiro, but…..he needs to know what’s happening to Keith. He needs to remind himself that Keith is strong enough to take the brunt of it, at least until they find him.

Lance starts off slow and gentle, when they’re alone in the kitchen, eating their mid-day goo together.

“Hey Shiro,” he states, firmer than usual, which catches the black paladin’s attention immediately. Lance looks nervous, constantly twirling his spoon in the goo with no apparent goal. “Is it alright if I ask you….about what happened? When they took you?”

Shiro seems to understand why Lance wants this – he always understood, no matter how rough the situation got. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t really even move, just mentally steels himself and sorts though his own thoughts carefully.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Shiro grits though his teeth, looking for some sign of consent from Lance (who nods fervently) before continuing on. “The conditions are rough. They don’t feed you much, and they….view you as a _toy_ , something to be played with.” Lance notices the way his metallic fist automatically clenches, and his skin prickles with guilt. “Maybe they will have him fight in the Arena. Maybe they will leave him in the cell and feed him just enough to get by. I don’t know what they want from Keith, but I _do_ know that he’s strong enough to take it. He…..wouldn’t give up that easily, not if it was for Voltron.”

Lance gradually begins to nod, accepting what little information Shiro can provide for him. The white-haired leader can tell it provides some small comfort for Lance, hearing those reassurances, and he smiles at him as Lance walks away to once again look at the star map.

The goo feels thick in his throat when he takes another bite. Shiro hadn’t told him the whole truth – how Keith was a valuable prisoner, full of information that the Galra desperately need, and how the Galra would do absolutely anything to get that information, possibly even torture. It was likely that Keith was in a lot of pain right now, Shiro knew that, but he couldn’t tell Lance that. He was already heartbroken as it was (Lance hadn’t talked about it with any of the other paladins, but it was hard to ignore), knowing that Keith was probably being punished to near-death was not something he would take well.

Saying those words outloud would make an awful situation too much of a reality for both of them. So instead, Shiro senselessly ate his goo, trying to forget those awful memories and trying to remember the good ones that kept Keith well and alive in his head.

 

* * *

 

Did he have a right to feel so angry at Lance?

Keith probably didn’t. Maybe his anger was directed at himself, for allowing their last real conversation to be a fight born out of his own pitiful jealousy. Lance would have no idea about how he felt, of course he would flirt with other people, it was who he was. The olive-skinned idiot could do whatever he wanted. That was what Keith found so appealing about him in the first place, anyway – how in even the worst of times, he could still smile, he could still be unabashedly himself, lifting others up with him along the way and making them smile too.

So why did he feel so weirdly angry?

Maybe the word he was looking for was _abandoned_. But that wasn’t the word he was looking for, because Keith had chosen this fate when he told them to leave him behind.

So no, that couldn’t possibly be the word he was looking for.

The door swung open, and Zortok repeated the motions he had grown so used to.

He barked back like Pavlov’s dog, and tried his best to steel his resolve once more. It seemed to get more and more painful every time.

 

* * *

 

 

Memories of Keith are beginning to fade in his mind, so Lance decides to check up on Keith’s room so he can re-remind himself of it all.

It’s got a much different vibe than his own room; whereas Lance’s room is clean and organized (a habit he adopted from growing up with such a big family), Keith’s is a contained chaos, not necessarily _messy_ but still scattered and haphazard. His bed isn’t made and the blanket is thrown across the room (most likely a reaction to the emergency of their last mission, before he…..) and what few personal possessions he has are stacked in a pile on top of the desk. Aside from that, there’s just a few knick-knacks scattered across the room – a couple of rocks and souvenirs they’d picked up from various planets, a spare knife next to his lamp (because of course Keith had _spare_ knife).

Immediately, Lance wants to search the pile. Most of what’s in it, from what he can see from his position near the door frame…..he’s never seen before. It looks like there’s a couple of folded clothes, maybe some photos, and a notebook. What are these items? How important are they to Keith?

Maybe he can just peek. It’s been over a month since he’s last seen Keith, and he’s losing grasp on the small things that he took so much for granted. The answers are right there, right in front of him, on top of that desk….

No. Keith was a private person, and he would _hate_ it if Lance went sniffing around his possessions like that. Even if he was captured, and even if Lance snooping through his stuff was probably the last thing on Keith’s mind right now.

Lance grabs the thrown-off blanket and allows himself to lay in the bed; he tells himself it’s so he can put himself in Keith’s shoes, so he can fill in the holes that time has begun to erode into his memories. The pillow smells like stained sweat and beef jerky, like a private version of Keith he could only get glimpses of until now. He remembers Keith mentioning off-hand how his favorite food while he lived in the desert was jerky – it was easy to prepare and it lasted for long stretches of time, he said, and Lance scoffed it off at the time but secretly found it rather endearing.

The blanket is practical; just thick enough to keep him from getting cold, but nothing more than that. It smells like dust and space goo, and just the smallest hint of cinnamon. All of these smells should disgust Lance, especially in combination, but they don’t. It smells like Keith, and that’s all he wants right now, is that anchor to make sure that Keith doesn’t float away from him again.

As the days goes on, Lance’s feet begin to automatically carry him here, until he stops pretending and finally takes up residency here, finally allowing himself to sleep for the first time in ages.

 

* * *

 

 

Would they even miss him?

It’s not a thought Keith _wants_ to have, but he feels like it’s a fair question to ask. He’d been with them for so long by this point. They’d been through everything together, they’d liberated entire races of aliens and shared dumb puns about space goo – surely they would miss him, right?

Maybe not. All of the reckless actions he’d made in his time with Voltron kept catapulting him in the face – why _did_ he try to chase after Zarkon by himself, after only having the red lion for less than a _month_ – and Keith feels like he’s grasping at straws. He’d done a lot of stupid, reckless, maybe even ‘bloodthirsty’ things with Voltron. And now that he was Galra, those things would make sense to everyone.

The Galra had tortured Shiro. Why would Shiro ever miss him after he found out what his true identity was?

And Pidge. Pidge would be angry with him. Somewhere in his ancestral blood were brethren who were probably holding the Holt family hostage right now, and Pidge would know that too.

Hunk was trusting, but incredibly cautious. He probably wanted to trust Keith, but wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to do so, not when the Galra reveal was so new and so unexplained.

Lance?

The door creaks open. Zortok catches him mid-thought and smirks to himself at the lost, confused expression that Keith’s wearing like a glove.

“Quite a few ticks have passed by, and not once have they come to save you. Are you sure they’re even coming at all?”

They shouldn’t be, and he knows that. But……

“Hmph. Maybe you’ll talk now that you realize? They’re not coming for you, red paladin. You’re only useful when you have that bayard in your hand. That’s all they want you for.”

Keith says nothing. He stares at the darkened ceiling, trying not to let those words get to him, trying to persevere through this test of willpower.

For the first time, he fails, and he can feel his eyes watering dangerously, merely hoping that Zortok has enough mercy not to mention it.

He doesn’t. “Finally starting to give in?” Zortok cackles and punches his gauntlets together, throwing his head back wildly as smashes the metal in his hands. “If only you would just come out and tell us the information we need. What’s the point of keeping it in when they don’t even care about you? But if you told us….” He leans in and breathes out against Keith’s face, and it smells like iron and fire. “Well, maybe we could show you how powerful the Galra Empire truly is.”

Lance had never really cared about Keith, had he? It was all just a ruse, to pick at him, to bring him down so Lance could push himself up.

That’s the only thought in his head as he’s dragged out of the room again, and for the first time Keith describes the pain he feels as truly unbearable.

 

* * *

 

 

They thought they’d found him. It was a leak from a captured alien species, who spoke with hidden voices about the ‘fabled red paladin’ held in a Galra base not fair from their home. Too eagerly, they all charged for the base, only to discover it all a ruse – the aliens had been forced to lie against their will, and without the ability to form Voltron, they were completely overwhelmed, forced to retreat with their tails between their legs and with one too many injuries cutting them to the bone.

When Lance finally found his way back to Keith’s room, he collapsed onto the unkempt bed, what little energy he had giving out immediately at the sight of the stiff mattress that belonged to Keith. He grimaced when his bruised cheek met the surface – Lance had learned that Keith liked his mattress much less fluffier than he did, which he still didn’t understand why anyone would prefer that– but still found himself melting into it, grasping at the sheets like straws, clinging to whatever comfort he could find after that hellhole of a mission.

The traces of Keith were beginning to fade away, both because of time and because of Lance’s ever-growing presence in this room now over-dominating what had been left behind. Smells of jerky and smoky wildfire were mingling with flowered shampoo and ocean breezes, which would have been ideal in any other situation, any other world where he and Keith could intertwine comfortably like this new, pleasant scent – but that’s not what Lance needed right now. He _needed_ Keith’s presence, the smell, the reminders of his existence, that he was still out there and that they were going to rescue him. Unwashed pillowcases and too-firm mattresses weren’t going to cut it today; Lance was disappointed, and anguished, and in desperate need of some semblance of hope that Keith was still out there, alive and well, and waiting for them to rescue him.

Hardened determination pushed Lance off of the mattress and towards the pile on the desk, untouched and undiscovered until now, as Lance’s fingertips brushed the top like a treasured heirloom, unable to resist his own curiosity as he forced himself to swallow what little traces of guilt plagued his tongue.

There’s a dead flower on top of the pile, likely put there due to its fragility, and Lance sets it aside after little inspection. Under that, there’s a couple of shirts that Lance can’t immediately recognize. One of them is black, faded with a few fuzzies sticking to the glossy, orange words on the front – ‘ _Garrison: Class of 20XX’._ It’s much too big to fit on Keith, and Lance flips the cloth over in his hands in search for answers, only to be presented with a name in bold, white print across the back – ‘ _Takashi Shirogane’_.

This must’ve been Shiro’s shirt that he received freshman year at the Garrison. Everyone got one at some point – Lance had his own copy somewhere, down in his Garrison closet, if it hadn’t been ravaged now that he was missing. The two other shirts in the pile followed a similar vein, old shirts that must’ve belonged to Shiro long before the Kerberos mission tore him away from Earth.

Lance pushes them away picks up the next part of the pile, which happen to be a couple of photos, some clearly wrinkled and war-torn while others are glossy and brand new. The top-most photo is the oldest, creased with fold-lines and worn-down from what must have been friction. It’s Shiro and Keith, shoulder to shoulder, with Keith in his cadet suit from the Garrison and Shiro in his instructor’s outfit, both of them grinning proudly. Even though there is a fold-line running straight through it, Lance focuses on the cadet’s smile, larger and brighter than Lance can ever remember seeing it, and he finds his cheeks automatically turning pink. It’s a cute photo. Lance absentmindedly wonders if he’s ever made him smile that wide before.

The rest of the photos were taken after Voltron was formed, some older than others. The older ones are much more chaotic – there’s one with all of them bickering over how to take the photo (Lance putting bunny ears over Keith and Allura, both of them looking like they’re about to rip his face off, Shiro rolling his eyes in the corner), and there’s another with Hunk candidly teaching Keith how to bake space casserole. One has Pidge and Keith toying around with Rover, and another has Shiro awkwardly blushing near Allura, which is labeled on the back in black sharpie with the word ‘BLACKMAIL’ (which Lance snickers at).

There’s not a lot of photos, and before he knows it Lance is holding the last one, glossiest of them all, and completely different from the ones before it. While the others seemingly showed memories Keith wanted to keep, this one seemed like an accidental shot – it’s Lance polishing Blue, smiling and humming a tune by himself.  

Lance doesn’t remember this photo being taken. How long had Keith had this, and _why_ did he have this? Was it an accidental shot that he just never bothered to throw away, or was there something….more to it….?

He has so many questions he wants to ask, but no ability to get answers. Until he looks down at the last thing in the pile and realizes there’s a notebook staring back at him, labeled ‘Personal’ in inked, black letters across the front.

Keith had a _journal_?

There’s about two seconds where Lance thinks, ‘ _no, I shouldn’t read this, it’s PERSONAL for Christ’s sake, Keith would hate me if he found out I read this-_ ‘ but it’s completely engulfed by his desperate need for answers, for an insight into Keith’s personal life, and before he knows it Lance has brushed the cover open, tracing the words on the first page with his calloused fingertips.

 

 

_This is stupid._

 

If Lance had any doubts that this was Keith’s journal, they were gone now.

 

_Shiro gave me this because he was concerned I was using training as an ‘emotional crutch’, as he put it. I don’t want to write in this, but I can’t deny that there’s some truth to that statement, and Shiro seems really eager to make me try this out, so whatever, here we are._

_What do I even write in this thing?_

_Shiro told me to just write ‘whatever’s on my mind’. Let’s see -  I’ve been improving in training recently, and I’ve already managed to best the level 4 simulation. I’ll probably start level 5 tomorrow, when Shiro isn’t around to judge me for training too much (or Lance, that idiot). Hunk showed me some gadget he was working on, and I tried to follow along but there were too many wires to count. I have no idea how Hunk can build things so quickly……._

 

The rest of the journal entry is equally as boring, and at one point Keith plots out a training regime to follow (which – how can one person do _that many_ push-ups?). It’s not a lot, but it’s something new, a slight glimpse into Keith’s head that was already revealing things Lance didn’t know about.  

He allows himself to read a few more entries before his weariness kicks in and he falls asleep on the uncomfortable mattress, notebook held just a little too closely to his body, as if Lance hopes Keith will bleed out of the pages and come back to him overnight.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith knows he is still alive, but he wonders how close to the edge he is, how much more he can take before he stops existing in this hellhole completely.

He’s used to his stomach’s constant growling, and the dull ache that infects his chest from still-broken bones. He’s used to the dried phlegm that coats the back of his throat in place of water, and he’s used to the blurriness of his vision, caused by lack of sleep and lack of nutrition. He’s used to it all, yes, but that doesn’t make it any easier – it hurts, a lot, and it feels like it’s getting worse every day, now that he can’t stop thinking about Voltron and how he has failed them so.

They wouldn’t even want someone as weak as him back on the team. Keith thought he was prepared for this, for the possible day where he was captured and starved like he is now, but it turns out he wasn’t. He was just as weak as Zortok claimed him to be, and as Keith felt his willpower slowly slipping out of his grasp, he couldn’t find the energy to reign it back in, to stand strong for his friends.

No wonder they weren’t coming for him. Why would they? He was weak, this proved that, and surely they all knew it.

It hurt, knowing he failed them.

Keith’s purple ears twitch in reflex to the slide of the metal door, a familiar commander staring at the entrance.

“Are you going to talk today?” He urges, knowing full well how broken Keith is becoming, just waiting it out with a patience Keith didn’t know the Galra could have.

“No.” It’s barely a whisper, and the word comes out dried and cracked from a lack of water. Keith wonders if he really means the word. What would happen if he actually said yes, and told them everything – would he be free?

He still means the word, but he wonders why he does.

His ribcage thumps in pain as he’s dragged out once again, somewhat hoping that maybe this time, they’ll finally break him.

 

* * *

 

 

_Training has been going well. Shiro mentioned today that I moved ‘faster than normal’ – which is great, because I’ve been working on my agility with the gladiator. The space goo doesn’t seem to have a lot of protein in it, and I’m thinking about asking Coran for some sort of supplement, because I can’t get stronger if my body won’t let me, and I need to be stronger if I want to contribute to Voltron._

_I don’t know how I feel about this ‘Voltron’ thing, but I know it’s important. I’m fine with doing it anyways, it’s not like I have anyone or anything waiting for me back on Earth. Now that I have Shiro back too, all the better._

_Saving the universe? Not a bad rep to have. And it feels weird to say this, but I like fighting. It gives me a weird thrill. It also gives me a purpose, since I am doing it to save the universe, after all._

_And the fact that it all proves my conspiracy theories right? All the better._

_\--_

_I don’t understand Lance. He keeps trying to rile me up for no reason other than to piss me off. He doesn’t take Voltron seriously, and all he wants to do is complain and whine and pick on me._

_Plus, why did the Blue Lion pick him if I was the one who sensed it first? It doesn’t make sense._

_I don’t hate him, and I’ll try to be nice to him, but damn if he isn’t making it hard for me._

_\--_

_Shiro forced me to train against Lance today. I liked the idea, because it meant I could finally show him a piece of my mind. It turns out he’s not just all talk – he’s got good aim with that gun, and he got a few hits on me that I will never willingly admit. I told him I wasn’t even trying, but that’s a lie, and it pisses me off. Maybe there is a reason he’s here. Am I missing something?_

_Hunk told me there’s ‘more to him than meets the eye’, which doesn’t make sense to me. He’s just an idiot, with a surprisingly good shot._

_We are having a celebration with the Arusians tomorrow and I do not want to go. The aliens are cool, but I don’t like big crowds, and I don’t like being idolized. But if Allura says it’s what’s best for Voltron’s mission, then I suppose I will go._

_\--_

_Why did Lance jump in front of that bomb? Why did he shove Coran aside?_

_I don’t get it. I don’t get him. Why did he do that? He could have just kept running – maybe him and Coran would have both been knocked out for a while, but they both would have probably been ok. Now Coran’s fine and Lance is stuck in this healing pod because he almost died._

_Why did he come out of that coma just when I needed him to, only for him to fall back into it after firing that shot? Why did he tell me we made a good team? We’ve never really even been on a team before. Did he fire that shot just for me? Was that his idea of teamwork?_

_I thought I understood Lance, but I don’t. Who the hell is he?_

_Hunk was right. There is more to him than meets the eye._

_\--_

It probably wasn’t the right reaction, but Lance finds himself giggling with each passing entry. Who knew Keith was so obsessed with him?

But it explains a lot, and it helps Lance to cope. He decides to get his own journal and write a response to each entry, because Lance feels this need to explain his off behavior, especially because his lack of explanation cost him….all of this. Keith would probably still be mad to find out about Lance’s snooping, but if he could just explain himself, then maybe…..maybe when they finally got Keith back, it could all make sense.

His gut told him this was the right thing to do, so he shoved himself off of the bed and went in search for some form of paper and a pen.

 

* * *

 

 

A long time ago, Lance and Keith were put on a team together to investigate reports of an underground Galra base. It was meant to be a quick trip, its purpose only to find the coordinates of the base before retreating immediately to plan a proper attack – but somehow, either because of Lance’s inability to read a map or because of Keith’s impatience with Lance and the map, they’d gotten lost.

They were in a field of what Lance had named ‘moon flowers’, stretching far beyond the eye, illuminating the span of the field with a light blue hue. They reached up to the knee before blossoming gracefully, blessing anyone who saw them with an aurora of turquoise beauty from the center of the small, fragile flower. To most people, it was an astounding sight.

Keith was too angry to be astounded by this, however, because he was lost and grumpy and he just wanted to find the coordinates and get back to the castle to do anything else but this. It didn’t help that Lance was prancing like a fool through these flowers, seemingly unable to contain his enthusiasm for these weird, potentially-poisonous flowers.

What finally got him out of his funk was when he realized that, at some point, Lance had went silent altogether, now bent to the knee and staring straight into the heart of the flower.

The glow of the flower brushed onto his cheeks and highlighted the stars in his eyes. Slight hints of freckles stood out against the gentle blue illumination, as Lance stared with awe into the blossom.

“This one,” he whispered, gingerly touching the edge of a pedal with his fingertips. “It looks like the ocean.”

He couldn’t have known that Keith was staring. Hell, Lance probably forgot Keith was even there, with how absorbed by this flower he was, gaping at it like it was a portal to Earth itself. His left hand ghosted the edges of the flower while his right rested the head gently into his palm, cradling it, lost in his own world.

“Just like Veradero.” Lance wet his lips and Keith could see the sheen of them against the blue light of the flower. “Just like the beach, where the best waves happen just as the sun sets, and where the water is warm and salty, and where the sand is perfect for building sandcastles….”

Keith couldn’t move. All he could feel was the harsh thump of his chest, pulsing blood against his ears, fillings his veins with euphoria.

_This was Lance. This was who Lance really was._

In a field full of moon flowers, Keith could feel his heart blossoming, opening itself towards the sun that was Lance.

He couldn’t handle this. His senses were on overload. Impulsively, he slapped his palm against his face, trying to wipe away the rapid blush that was overshadowing his face-

Lance finally looked up, alerted by the sudden noise, but he wasn’t startled. Everything about him was serene, and it rubbed off on Keith, who resorted back to standing frozen in place, hiding his mouth behind his palm in embarrassment.

Gently, Lance picked the flower at the root. He straightened himself up and walked over to Keith, holding out the flower to him with a smile.

“Hold this for me, yeah?” He quipped, surprisingly genuine to Keith. “I’ll take it back once we get back to the castle, but for now, I’ve got to hold the map.”

Keith was staring again. His smile – it was bright, and calming, and it threatened to drown Keith with its brilliance.

His hand was shaking as he reached out to grab the flower. When he finally got it in his hand, he gripped it much too tightly and almost broke the stem in half, but Lance didn’t pay it any mind. He just flashed that smile one more time before turning around and pulling out the map again, marching forward aimlessly with determination.

*

Lance had forgotten to ask for it back, and Keith had “forgotten” to give it back. It may be dead now, but it was one of the brightest memories Keith had, and it was what he was clinging to today as he stared at the cell’s darkened ceiling, wondering if Lance even remembered it at all.

Was it good to hold on to memories like this, especially when they’d all but forgotten about him?

It wasn’t, and he knew it. But he had to try and keep some sanity while he was here, and if happy memories about someone who never really cared about him were what it took to get through today, then he would get through today, come hell or high water.

* * *

 

 

_He forgot the bonding moment. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe him._

_I thought maybe, finally, I got him, but you know what – nevermind. This is stupid. Writing about this is stupid._

_I hate him._

_\--_

_Everything happens so quickly in space, with Voltron. So much has happened and I haven’t written any of it down._

_Things get better and things get worse._

_I worry about Shiro. Clearly he’s traumatized from his….capture, but he refuses to talk about it. I don’t know what to do – he never bottled up stuff like this before, but now it takes so much effort just to get anything out of him. I just want to help him, but I’m no good at any of this. I hate this._

_I’ve never seen Hunk so dead-set on something before. His visit to the Balmera changed him. He said it’s important because it’s a ‘living planet’, which sounds stupid, because Earth is a living planet too. Whatever. If they’re under Galra control, I’ll do whatever it takes to help free them._

_Pidge seems better, now. I don’t understand their anger, and I still can’t believe Pidge would put the lives of two people over the entire universe. I told Shiro that, and he pointed out that I literally got myself kicked out of school because they wouldn’t tell me about him, so I guess….I do understand? But I really don’t. I’m trying, though._

_Something about Lance seems off. He keeps disappearing and he’s not as loud as before. I don’t get him, at all. I think I do, and then he goes off and surprises me and I’m back to square one again._

_Why do I care so much? I don’t know. But I guess I…..do. Just like all of them._

_Maybe I should try and reach out? He’s not even trying to rile me up anymore. I don’t know._

_I should go train._

_\--_

_I talked to Lance. Or tried to. He mostly just talked about how it was his little brother’s birthday and then he rambled on about pranks they used to pull on each other when they were little. I didn’t understand it, but it sounded nice. And it seemed to make Lance happier too, so mission accomplished._

_If only I could be that helpful to Shiro? I don’t know. Maybe talking to Lance like this will help me get better at talking to Shiro. Two birds, one stone._

_His little brother sounds just like him. His name’s Javi. Trying to imagine a nine-year old Lance with a missing tooth is funny._

_\--_

_Lance got his lion stolen because he flirted with some alien chick. I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun as I had mocking him over it – he was handcuffed to a tree, for god’s sake._

_God, what an idiot._

_Today was a good day._

_\--_

_I don’t know my parents. I’ve never had any friends. I’ve been alone for most of my life, and I’ve been fine with it._

_Whenever I’d see couples making out in Garrison corridors, I was disgusted. How can you rely so much on other people? Other people fail you. You can only trust in yourself. Plus, it’s gross. Keep it to yourself._

_On the Balmera mission, Lance stopped me from rushing head-first into Galra forces and came up with a better plan. Hunk saw me make a ‘sad’ face so he tried to make me space jerky. It tasted nothing like jerky, but it wasn’t bad either. Coran was concerned I wasn’t ‘studying’ enough so he gave me some weird Altean book I can’t read about battle tactics._

_They’re all stupid, small things, but I can feel myself growing close to these people. I feel like I can trust them._

_Home?_

_*_

There’s about a month-long break before the next entry, and Lance already knows what happened.

He wasn’t entirely prepared for what was on the next page, however.

It’s dark, and bold, and almost unintelligible with how harshly the words strike against the page. Lance feels his heart ache with a hundred beats all at once.

*

****

****

**_I will never allow myself to be that weak ever again._ **

* * *

 

When Zortok arrives to his cell today, he holds something in his hand. It appears to be heavy and circular to Keith’s blurred eyes, but he doesn’t trust his senses anymore and gives up guessing what it is before too long.

“Somehow, you’ve remained strong throughout this _interrogation process_ ,” he purrs, licking his fangs with the tip of his tongue. “It must be the Galra in you – we never go down without a fight. You make us proud, red paladin.”

Keith growls in response, before automatically silencing himself once he registers the feral noise he’s making. He’s grown used to the Galra part of him, and he hates how natural it feels.

“While it is fun to press you like this, I’m getting impatient, and that information is vital to the empire. So we’re going to try something _new_.” Zortok’s too fast, and before he knows it Keith is yanked off of the ground by his hair, growling wildly as the metal instrument is snapped in place around his neck, cold metal searing against his hot skin.

Immediately, Keith claws at it, trying to rip the metal off of his body. “What is this?” He screams, making no progress, already losing his will to fight – he hates to admit it, but the Galra are smart. Whatever they’ve placed on him probably can’t be scratched off through sheer force alone, despite how much Keith wanted to keep clawing at it.

“It’s your new collar, red paladin.” Zortok’s grin oozes malevolence, and Keith wants to rip it off of his scarred face. “If you don’t want to willingly see how powerful the empire is, then I guess I will just have to force you to understand.”

“What are you-“

Keith involuntarily screams, as electric blue fire explodes under his skin, literally setting his senses on fire. It’s excruciating, much worse than any of the treatments he has received up to this point, and all he can think about is Lance, Lance, _Lance_ -

The shock is over soon enough, and Keith collapses to the ground, faintly smelling the stench of burnt fur.

“The instructions are simple,” Zortok continues, circling around the Galra prisoner with a predatory smirk. “You obey, and you will not get shocked. You disobey, and well….you saw what happened.”

He had to stay strong. For Voltron, for Earth, for everyone, for Lance-

“Would you like to see another demonstration?”

The shock hits his system, and Keith finds himself screaming for Lance.

 

* * *

 

 

_I’m weak ever since I got back from the wormhole incident. I’m back down to a level 3 gladiator fight – that’s how weak I was when I first started Voltron. I can’t believe this._

_I can’t let myself get reckless. I almost cost everyone their lives because I wasn’t strong enough._

_I can’t let myself be that weak again._

_Keep training, keep training. That’s all that matters right now._

*

Keith goes on to list a training routine, and Lance flips back to the first page for comparison. This one’s much more intense, maybe even dangerously so, and Lance absentmindedly clenches the journal tighter.

 

\--

 

_Back up to level 4. Still not good enough. I’m writing in this only because Shiro told me to. Words words words. He’s watching me. I have to look busy. Words words words._

_He’s gone. Back to training._

_\--_

_After training today, Lance cornered me while I was cleaning up and forced me to tell him what was going on._

_I was about one second away from shoving him onto the ground, but then he had this….genuinely concerned look, and I just….couldn’t do anything._

_I didn’t tell him much, just that I was tired and frustrated with my lack of progress. He seemed to understand and took me to the kitchen to eat some late night goo. He rambled about his little sister this time. Her name is Anabel. Apparently she’s a lot quieter than Lance but looks a lot like him too._

_Imagine that. A tiny, quiet, Lance._

_My chest feels weird. I don’t like this._

_\--_

_Lance has made it his mission to find me every night and talk to me about stuff. I don’t know what his goal is, but I can’t deny that I like it? It makes me feel like I matter, I guess. Which is good. Shiro always tells me I get stuck in my own head sometimes._

_I accidentally let it slip that I feel like I failed Voltron and he jumped on that. Told me I’m just as important as everyone on the team, how I’m important, all this stuff. He mentioned that back at Garrison, he used to look up to me, and I….don’t know why that thought is so nice. I know I had some admirers, and I never cared, but it feels different this time?_

_Lance is a good pilot. Maybe that’s why. It feels good to be recognized by your peers._

_Lance doesn’t feel like a ‘peer’ though. No one on Voltron does. It’s more than that. A home. It’s a home._

_He rambled about his family again and I’m starting to understand why it means so much to him. I’m elated at the thought that I can finally understand._

* * *

 

Keith is the paladin of fire, the reckless lion that charged ahead based on instinct, spreading wildfire, burning down everything in its path. He’s lava flowing down the side of a mountain, a signal for the upcoming explosion; he’s the smoke columns that billow into the sky as the blaze blitzes onward; he’s the spark of passion that starts the flame, the instigator, the eternal flame that will never be extinguished.

That’s what he wanted to believe. That was the power the red paladin was supposed to hold.

The only fire he feels is the fresh blistering of shock wounds near his throat. The pain would disappear for hours at a time, only for Zortok to come back, and bark useless orders that Keith would refuse to follow; all of which was merely a courtesy, because he knew Keith would resist, and he was just waiting for Keith to spit at him so he could gleefully shock the willpower right out of him with fire.  

This fire was blue, and dangerous, and threatening to consume him completely.

Just like another blue fire, long ago, that burned his heart alive. Not that any of it mattered.

Blue was more dangerous than red. Blue was supposed to be calm and soothing, but it only brought mountains of pain that Keith couldn’t bear.

Now he was irreversibly purple, and this pain was going to stick with him forever – and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

* * *

 

 

_Today Lance and Hunk left for a scouting mission that will most likely take a week._

_It’s too quiet around here. I used to hate all of the noise those two would make but now I realize how lonely it feels when it’s quiet._

_Reminds me of how quiet everything was after the wormhole incident….reminds me that I am weak._

_I’ll just train harder while they’re gone._

_\--_

_They came back from the mission today and Hunk was pretty badly injured. Said they ran into a scouting Galra fleet that took them by surprise. He’s in the healing pod now, and Lance won’t leave him alone._

_Maybe if I had gone….Hunk would have been ok._

_I’ve been sitting next to Lance because he seems like he shouldn’t be alone right now. Mostly talked about his and Hunk’s friendship. Apparently they’ve been friends since elementary school. That’s….amazing. I can’t even imagine what that’s like._

_He’s asleep now, so I decided to write in this. I used to like thinking alone, but recently, thinking just…isn’t positive for me anymore. It used to help me cope, but now it throws my problems in my face._

_My weaknesses. Shiro. My training. Lance……_

_I shouldn’t be thinking about Lance._

_\--_

_Today Shiro asked me if I like Lance. I told him yeah, he’s a good friend, and Shiro just shook his head. “You were staring,” he said. And I hadn’t realized it, but I was. How can I not? I don’t understand how he can move those long limbs as gracefully as he does. It’s fascinating._

_Shiro told me to ‘look within myself’ or whatever and figure out how I feel about Lance. I don’t know why I feel like entertaining this idea, but I’m bored, and Lance is cleaning up, so why not._

**_ Things About Lance That Annoy Me _ **

_-Sings along to music in the showers after training, gives me headaches_

_-Thinks it’s funny to fart when everyone is in the same room_

_-Still calls me a ‘dropout’. I’m not a dropout, I got kicked out and I’m damn proud of that_

_-Smells like sea salt. Not a bad thing, but I thought salt didn’t have a smell, and I spend more time thinking about this than I want to_

_-Always overreacts when I don’t get his pop culture references_

_-Oddly long nose_

-

-

-

-

_I’m having a hard time with this list for some reason. Left some blanks so I can go back and fill them in later._

**_ Things About Lance That Don’t’ Annoy Me _ **

_-Quick learner_

_-Makes shitty, bad puns that I laugh at only because of how bad they are_

_-Has a nice family, I think_

_-Pretty good cook when Hunk is busy_

_-Somehow always knows how to make me feel better_

_-Forces me out of my bad habits_

_-Keeps me in check when my impulsiveness kicks in_

_-An idiot (Shouldn’t this one go in the annoying category? But that doesn’t feel right….)_

_-Toothy grin. How does he do that? Every time I smile I look dumb_

_-Shows me stupid movies and shows so I can get his pop culture references. I’ll never admit this to him but they’re usually pretty cool_

_-Probably smarter than I am, at least when it comes to people_

_-Nice hair. Not as greasy as mine. Probably not greasy at all. What would it feel li_

_Oh god. Shiro was right. Oh shit. What is_

_*_

There’s a bunch of angry scribbles and unintelligible words after that. Lance hardly even notices – he’s too busy doing laps around Keith’s room, squealing like a puppy, feeling like he was on top of the world.

Keith _liked_ Lance.

Keith _liked_ him.

Keith, Keith, Keith, Keith.

That night, when he takes his routine pre-bedtime shower, he sings so loudly that Coran manually shuts off his water from the control panel. He keeps singing anyways. Nothing can stop him.

 

 

* * *

 

“Attack the dummy, paladin.”

He’s been here for months and they never bothered to learn his name. They didn’t care about him. He was just a tool to them.

It was never like that with Voltron. They cared about him, they treated him like he was part of the team. He stood still, staring at the mechanical figure dressed ominously in colorless paladin armor.

“Still not listening? Hmph, alright.”

Zortok pressed a button in his hand, and the sparks spread across Keith’s collarbones, sending his senses into painful overload. It seemed like it got worse every time. Maybe it did – he didn’t want to question it, give them ideas if he was wrong.

“You don’t think they really _cared_ about you, do you?”

Keith’s head snaps towards Zortok, fangs bared. Could the collar read his mind too?

“How long has it been since you’ve been captured? Quite a while, wouldn’t you agree? We haven’t even relocated you or anything. Surely you can’t be that hard to find, can you?”

He was playing games with Keith. There had to be a reason they hadn’t shown up yet – maybe he was at their headquarters, maybe they’d been sidetracked, maybe-

The shock comes back, Keith screeches, and his knees buckle below him.

“They’re never going to come get you. You’re here forever, red paladin. You’re a Galra now. Act like it and attack the dummy. Attack your so-called ‘friends’.”

It had been so long since he had last seen any of them…..it all felt like such a distant memory now.

Maybe they really had abandoned him.

Blood red anger fills his vision, and he howls as his claws emerge from his tips.

He’s tired of this pain, of hoping, of remembering them.  In the back of his mind, a promise flickers for a moment – one that he had believed in so passionately, one where he would never again be weak – before it smothers itself in rage.

He screams, lunges forward, and rips the dummy apart to shreds in mere seconds.

He was Galra now. He was no longer a member of Voltron. He had to accept that.

 

* * *

 

 

_I like Lance. I really like Lance._

_I don’t know what to do. I’ve never done this before. I mean yeah, I’ve thought guys were pretty before, but this is new. I’ve never wanted to….be close to someone._

_I don’t know if I understand him yet. But I want to? He’s so different from me. He has a huge family, and he cries a lot, and he knows how to make an entire room light up. I don’t have any of that._

_Coran tells me I’ve been smiling more. That’s….good. I think. I’m happier. I’m better._

_All thanks to him._

_\--_

_We got lost in a flower field today. I was really angry about it but then I saw how happy Lance was and I just…._

_Everything hurts? It hurts so much. I feel like I’m on fire._

_He gave me a flower. Well, he ‘gave’ me it. I was just supposed to hold on to it, but I couldn’t find the will to give it back._

_I asked Allura how to keep it alive and she told me that once the stem is picked, it will automatically die in five days. What a shame. I guess I’ll just have to hold onto it while I can._

_It’s very pretty. Very blue._

_*_

Lance looks up from the journal and stares at the dead flower he’d pushed aside so thoughtlessly before. _Oh_.

It was the flower that Keith had forgotten to give back and Lance had ‘forgotten’ to take back. That was it….

He can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and he does nothing to stop them. That was the flower. The moon flower.

Not for the first time, he cries into the pillow that smelled faintly of smoke and sea salt.

 

* * *

 

“Paladin.”

Keith’s jolted awake by the deep voice, ears twitching uncomfortably. They let him sleep more when he obeyed. He’s not used to it, but he’s dreaming for the first time in a while, and it’s pleasant….it’s a distraction.

“It is time for your training. Come. You have been doing well recently, the empire is proud of you.”

Proud?

 _Proud_. That was the word Shiro always used. Especially back at the Garrison, when there was so much to be proud of….

That was the word Zortok used to describe him, now.

His instincts have been worn down by months of imprisonment. Keith no longer feels the need to resist, not when it only brought him pain, not when it brought back the blue fire.

Slowly, he pushes his battered body off of the ground, brushing slight remnants of dirt that had accumulated on him from rolling around in slumber. He looks at Zortok with a steady gaze, and he wonders if his pupil-less eyes can show any emotion.

Zortok smirks, and waves for him to follow. Keith does so without a word.

 

* * *

 

 

_I was reckless. I broke formation. I thought I could do it by myself._

_According to the log, I was in the healing pod for three days. There’s been worse, but it’s still worrying. That means my injuries were severe. That means I fucked up._

_Lance was there when I came out. He seemed tired, and worried. I never meant to worry him like that. I didn’t want that….._

_Coran’s got me bedridden for the next two days. The minute that I can, I will be in the training room. I can’t allow this to happen again._

_I will never allow myself to be that weak again. I will never allow myself to be that weak again._

_\--_

_Allura alerted me to the fact that they almost captured me. I didn’t realize that was how close of a call it was._

_I can’t allow that to happen. If any of us got captured, Voltron would be ruined….the universe would die. Earth would die, all of their families would die. Javi would die. Anabel would die._

_If I ever actually got captured, I don’t want to be found. Leave me behind and find a new Red Paladin. It’s what would be best for the universe. My life doesn’t matter when it comes to millions of_

_*_

Lance doesn’t read the rest of the entry. He rips out the page and crumples it in his hands, throwing it haphazardly at the wall, gritting his teeth hard enough that they creak under the pressure.

This thoughts whirl in the chaos of his scattered mind. _He’s wrong. He’s wrong, we’d never abandon him, we’re going to find him, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to tell you otherwise, I’m sorry I was afraid to be honest with you, I’m sorry that this is all my fault, I’m sorry that…._

Lance realizes this isn’t a time to be sorry.

The best way for him to show he’s sorry? Find Keith. Show Keith himself how sorry he is. Then it’ll be ok.

The journal slips off of his lap as he paces out of the door, aiming for the control room.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come, Paladin. It is time for your training of the day.”

Keith follows without complaint. There’s still some resistance in him, but it’s weak, rooted in memories that are slowly slipping from his grasp, and he no longer has the energy to try and keep them tight.

It’s immediate that something is different today when Zortok takes him down a different hallway than normal. This one is wider, well lit, and there’s Galra soldiers pacing down its stretch. Keith realizes that he hasn’t seen one other Galra aside from Zortok since he got here.

How long has it been since he’s gotten here? How long has it been since he’s seen another person?

After what feels like an eternity of walking, the hallway empties out into a vast space, eerily empty. There seem to be seats scattered all over the middle of the room, facing a wall to Keith’s left, and he realizes –

There is no wall. They’re facing the stars.

He hasn’t seen the stars in so long.

Zortok shepherds him right in front of the vast window, stretching a mile high, and waits.

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen the galaxy,” he purrs, and Keith doesn’t catch just how sinister it sounds.

The most amazing thing about space to Keith is that it looks different to everyone in the universe. No matter where you are, the stars and the planets are all in different places, create different constellations, stretch differently along an endless, ebony sea, only to recede into waves unknown and possibly undiscovered.

He remembers sitting on the star deck, back at the castle, writing thoughts in his journal. It was always so quiet, and so peaceful, and the view was always breathtaking, every damn time. He remembers hiding there, actively trying to avoid his own thoughts, only to be cornered by a genuinely concerned Lance, who would ease his worries out of him so, so gently. He remembers sitting there, talking about Lance’s family, talking about Keith’s conspiracies, making random constellations out of nothing and giggling helplessly at how terrible Lance was at drawing imaginary lines between the stars.

He’s crying. He can’t help it. They’re out there, his friends, somewhere in between the lines, fighting Galra, saving the universe…..

They’re not looking for him.

The tears feel like blue fire on his cheeks. They burn his skin with helplessness, with the realization that he is stuck here, forever, fallen in between the lines with no one bothering to read them.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Zortok clamps a clawed hand on his shoulder, looking out into the black sky with him. “So many planets, so many people….and it’s all _ours_. The Galra empire.”

He looks down at Keith, who refuses to look up, tears still blinding his eyes. “And it’s yours too, red paladin. You’re one of us now – you get to indulge in this as well.”

Zortok makes a dramatic sweep with his arm, across the entirety of the window. “Soon, it will all be ours. You can help us make this dream come true. Help us, _Keith_ , help us reach our true potential.”

 _Keith_. He hadn’t heard his own name in ages. The last time he’d heard that…..

Slowly, he wipes away the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. His jaw locks in place and his eyebrows crease, staring forward, no emotion shown on his face.

“Yes…..” He gulps harshly, swallowing the remnants of his past. “Yes sir.”

“Good.” Zortok pats him on the back before continuing forward, ushering Keith to follow. “It’s time for you to train. A good Galra solider is one who trains until he is dead.”

Keith realizes that he has always been a good Galra soldier.

This was the true role he was born for. This was his destiny now.

He turns on his heel and follows shortly behind, clenching his fists at his sides with anticipation.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Allura who breaks first.

They’re meeting after a failed covert mission (the most recent in a long chain of failures), frustrated and defeated, when she becomes the first to dare utter the words.

“Maybe it’s about time we start looking for a replacement for the Red Lion.”

Everyone immediately stiffens and stares at the ground. Everyone understands. It’s been so long, and they currently had no leads. For all they knew, Keith could’ve been dead.

“It’s…” Shiro stumbles over his words, his voice cracking, “It’s not an idea I like, but….”

Lance moves to interject, but the words freeze in his throat when someone else steps up and interjects – much to his surprise, _Pidge_ comes forward, stomping a foot hard on the metal ground.

“We’re not leaving Keith behind.” Lance has never seen Pidge so determined before; their face is harsh, full of newfound edges that he’d never seen before, sharpening their jaw and crinkling their eyes with determination. “You don’t leave family behind, now when there’s a chance that they can be out there….we can’t just give up….”

Shiro gulps and sits down on the couch, instantly looking guilty. Hunk offers him a hand on his shoulder, which he accepts with resignation.

“Pidge,” Allura urges, and everyone can hear the heartbreak in her voice. “I want to rescue Keith as much as everyone else, but we _need_ to form Voltron in order to stop the Galra, and without Keith, we can’t do that.”

“That just means we have to look harder then, don’t we?” Lance braces himself next to Pidge, just as determined. “You’re right, we can’t form Voltron without Keith. He’s irreplaceable. He’s…”

“Strong, and courageous, and cares more about Voltron than any of us do.” Hunk finishes Lance’s sentence, standing up and planting himself next to his old Garrison teammates. “We can’t leave him behind, after all he’s done. If anything, we owe him this.”

Allura looks at Coran for some sense of backup, but he merely shrugs in response. Her eyes glaze over the determined, unrelenting looks of Pidge, Hunk, and Lance, before she hangs her head in shame.

“You’re….right. I apologize for my brash behavior.” She stares at the ground sheepishly, right hand clutching her left with a sense of nervousness. 

“It’s fine.” Lance hates that he understands why she feels this way, why she even considered that option in the first place, but he does, and he doesn’t want the princess to dwell on it. Just like he had told himself before - _this isn’t a time for apologies, this is a time for action._

Movement can be heard from behind Lance and he turns around to see a revitalized Shiro, newly determined and full of vengeance in his eyes. “Alright team. It’s time to find Keith.”

The tension leaves the room when they all nod in unison. Lance can’t help but smile at that – _this_ was the family Keith had belonged to, the one he tried so hard to protect.

Now it was their turn to protect him.

 

* * *

 

The dummy’s dressed in green now. Keith realizes he’s being conditioned, but he no longer cares about any of it.

This was his new life. His new, abandoned, empty life. Just like at the shack. Just like when the Garrison kicked him out, leaving him homeless and alone not for the first time in his life. This was just another link on the chain, another place to rest his weary feet before he was forced out once again.

He should have known better than to put so much hope into his last home. It never changed. He was always kicked out. Always had to find a new home.

Keith can feel his blood boiling, and he slashes the dummy apart, watching as green ribbons of fabric fall between his fingers and float onto the ground.

“Very good, Keith.” Zortok leans over a control panel, tapping holographic buttons incessantly as he shoots a gaze of approval to the young Galra. “You’re finally allowing your Galra heritage to flow through you. Your reaction time is improving.”

Hesitantly, Keith smiles at the praise.

Another dummy pops up, this time dressed in yellow. Keith eyes it warily, quickshot memories scraping through his mind, and the anger rises up his throat like bile. With little pause, he tears through the dummy viciously, savoring the feeling of the ribbons gliding through his sharpened claws.

The suit falls to shreds, Keith wipes sweat off of his forehead, and Zortok compliments him once more.

 

* * *

 

 

_Things were going so well. I was improving in training. Lance and I were getting along great. Voltron was liberating the universe. Things were good. I was happy._

_What happened?_

_He’s avoiding me. He’s not subtle about it. I’ll walk into a room and he will immediately leave. He doesn’t come to me to talk anymore. In fact, I’m writing this up in the star deck, like a damn fool, hoping he will show up._

_I want to make constellations with him. He’s so bad at it, somehow, and it’s funny. He tried to make a toothbrush once. Who looks at the stars and wants to make a toothbrush?_

_Lance, I guess._

_This is why I don’t grow attachments. It hurts so much when it disappears._

_I’m sure I can talk to Shiro about it, but I don’t want to burden him. He has a hard enough time already._

_I’ll just go train. I’ve been doing poorly recently because I can’t stop thinking about all of this, but maybe this time it will be different._

_\--_

_Still avoiding me. It’s getting better and worse at the same time._

_He talks to me when he has to, but that’s it. I can tell something’s off. He’s distant. I don’t know what I did wrong? I don’t think I did anything in particular to piss him off. Anything too different from the normal, at least._

_He’s flirting with people more. He’s always done it, and I’ve learned to accept it over time, but now he seems to be off the rails. He’ll flirt with a tree. I can’t believe this._

_Can somebody tell me what changed? Anyone?_

_Of course nobody can. God, I feel so alone again._

_I was so close to telling him how I feel. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t, huh?_

*

There are a couple of wet marks coating the last few words, spreading the ink generously in a pool of regret. Lance thumbs the spots gingerly and notes that they’re about the size of small tears.

He throws the journal off of his lap and bangs his head against the metal wall, again, and again, and again. _I’m a fool. I’m a fool. I’m a fool. I’m a fool._

 

* * *

 

 

A paladin dummy stands before him, this time dressed in all black.

For the first time all training, Keith finds himself hesitating. There are so many memories attached to that color, and he’s overwhelmed by the sensory imagery that comes with it. Smiles and pats on the back at Garrison. Late night joyrides across the desert on his motorbike. Hiding under a not-too-foreign blanket with him when he needed to get away from his own home. A huge hug and a ruffle of the hair when they’d heard the news of Keith’s acceptance into Garrison.

It’s all supportive, and full of care, and Keith reaches out with his fur-clad hand, searching for that feeling, trying to grab onto it before it slips away-

He screams as the shock collar activates for the first time in days, and his healed blisters reopen with vigor, smelling of burnt flesh and dead hopes. Keith buckles to his knees, still screaming wildly, watching as memories of Shiro become intermingled with the blue fire, with the pain and the hatred he feels deep in his core towards all of them for causing him so much pain.

“There’s no need to hesitate,” Zortok purrs, wagging a finger at the figure still squirming uncontrollably on the ground. “They abandoned you, remember? They don’t care about you anymore. They want you _dead_.”

Before he even has time to think, Keith’s limbs are sprinting, growling ferociously, and he tackles the dummy to the ground with a scream. His vision is a blur of black swirls as he slashes at the dummy, over and over, until there are no pieces left, there’s _nothing_ left, just tiny bits of black, floating away from his hands, fraying at the ends, void and lifeless the moment they sputter onto the ground.

He’s panting, adrenaline pumping through his body with an intensity he hasn’t felt in so long, and he punches the ground hard enough to reopen old scabs on his knuckles. Tiny streams of purple blood erupt from under his skin and he howls with enough force to rattle the room itself.

Keith _hates_ Shiro. Shiro mentored him, stayed by his side and offered him friendship though the hard times for years, and now, when Keith needed him the most, he had _abandoned_ him. He hates him, so much, _so much, so MUCH_ -

“Ah, yes, _there_ it is.” Zortok cackles at the show before him, his fangs bared wide for Keith to see. “Now you fight as a true Galra should. I can see it in your eyes – you want to tear them apart.”

All he can do is stare at the ground and grit his teeth, because he knows Zortok is right, and he hates the world for turning him into this monster.

 

* * *

 

 

“Lance.”

He’s not sure if he heard his name or not, but he’s ten feet deep in his dream and it’s very pleasant, very warm-

“Lance, wake up. We found him. We found Keith.”

He’s wide awake in milliseconds, gripping at his sheets, staring hard into the figure looming over him, the only notable feature being the flow of long silver hair that pooled onto his chest.

Allura’s smiling, God she’s _smiling_ for the first time in ages, and she refuses to let up on shaking Lance out of bed, almost delirious with hope. “The Red Lion. It told me that she sensed him. She knows where he is. _We know where he is, Lance._ ”

Lance’s legs fling themselves out of bed, not waiting for the rest of his body to catch up to him as he stumbles wildly towards the door. “Where? Where is he? We need to-“

“The others are already up and in the control room. We just need to set up a plan and then we’re going to save him.” Despite the darkness of his room, Lance can still see the glimmer in her eyes. “The Red Lion couldn’t tell me much, she said it felt like there was a ‘wall’ blocking her from talking to Keith, but she can still pinpoint his location well enough-“

He’s out his own door in an instant, not even bothering to put on his blue lion slippers. If Keith was _finally_ out there for him to find, then Lance was going to find him, comfy slippers be damned.

_Keith is alive, and we are going to get him back. Keith is alive, and we are going to get him back._

 

* * *

 

 

Something forces its way into Keith’s dreams that night, something new yet eerily familiar. It feels like something is trying to communicate with him, the way it rumbles in his subconscious, as if asking for entry into his thoughts.

He pushes it away without a second thought. If it was his Lion, it would have tried to connect with him a long time ago. Now it’s just the ghost of his memories trying to haunt him back into Voltron.

He’s dead to them, and they’re dead to him. The empire is his home now. Fighting was his purpose. Everything else is in the past.

Now granted a mattress for all of his hard work, he rolls over comfortably and goes back to sleep, waiting inevitably for another day of hard, but ultimately rewarding, training.

 

* * *

 

His lion’s controls feel hot and balmy in his hands. He can see the Galra base far off in the distance, the one that supposedly holds Keith somewhere in its towering, metallic walls.

It’s finally tangible. Lance doesn’t have to depend on old journal entries and stiff mattresses anymore. Now he can have the real thing, the real Keith, with him.

He was going to find him and finally, after so many months, they would all be happy again.

_I can see you. And once I have you, I am never going to let go of you again._

 

* * *

 

 

They never planned on coming. Hell, they might have put him on that mission specifically for him to be captured.

It didn’t matter. Voltron was gone. The empire treated him well enough now. He had a purpose. Voltron gave him a purpose, and then threw him away like many of the families he had lived with before.

He accepted his new fate, after so many months, and he felt some sense of happiness fill his core.

The blue paladin dummy appeared before him. It was a worse shock to him than the collar had ever shocked him with. He tore it to shreds without a second thought.

_They were never coming for him. He was alone again. He had to let go of the past._

* * *

 

“Alright you two. Get in, find him, and _get out_. We’ll divert attention to ourselves to make this mission as easy as possible for you.”

Lance barrels out of the mouth of his lion, bayard in hand, anxiously observing his surroundings. Pidge is not far ahead, having just dismounted their own lion, and the two paladins nod to each other before aiming for a tunnel to Lance’s right.

He can hear the sound of metal crunching against metal as Hunk and Shiro attack the base from above, and there’s the distant echo of boots stomping as Galra soldiers flood into the area of attack. _Perfect_.

Pidge and Lance waste no time sprinting down the pathway, consciously softening the impact of their steps so as not to make too much nose. Blood pumps through Lance’s thin ears to the rhythm of his steps, harsh and powerful, almost drowning out the noise of battle from above.

All he can focus on is getting Keith back, on embracing him and healing him up and keeping him safe, on making new memories and forgetting the old and starting anew. He can’t – and he won’t – accept any less.

The tunnel empties out into a vast room, empty aside from a few Galra soldiers guarding the opposite tunnel, and the two crouch low and quickly scout the situation. The guards are on high alert, patrolling the room with large pistols in hand, seemingly emotionless and unreactive to the war going on above. The two paladins share a look, having done this many times before, and prepare for action.

Pidge crawls low around the perimeter of the room, bayard gripped tightly in their teeth, and Lance waits impatiently for them to get into position. Once he’s sure he’s given them enough time, he jumps out from his positions, wagging his arms wildly, tongue stuck out with a tease.

“Galra soldiers? More like _Small_ ra soldiers! Because you’re so weak and puny!” He turns around and wags his butt at them for good measure before activating his blue shield.

The armored soldiers turn to him, tilting their heads questioningly, before they register the insult and growl with anger. Just as they prepare their weapons, a _whoosh_ can be heard from the distance, and before they know it a neon green cord is wrapping around their bodies, clanking their heads against each other with enough force to effectively knock them out.

The Galra weapons drop to the floor as the two bodies slump against each other, and Pidge retracts their bayard with a shit-eating grin. “How is it always so easy?” They question jokingly, and Lance is about to indulge before he remembers their mission. _Their goal_.

All he can reply with is a simple ‘who knows’ before he’s off again, down another tunnel, just as empty as the one before. Shiro and Hunk must be banging it up – there’s not a soul in sight, aside from those soldiers from before, and Lance has watched enough movies to know that this is the part where he should be thinking that _this is too easy, it’s a trap, we have to get out of here_ , or something to that effect.

He doesn’t think that, however, because this is Keith, and he can’t turn back. If it’s a trap, then he’ll blast his way out of it. He can make up a plan B if he has to.

The two paladins can hear fighting near the end up the tunnel, and they ready their bayards with anticipation, slowing their pace as they edge towards the end.

Lance tiptoes his way towards the door, heart hammering against his war-torn armor, biting his bottom lip just enough that it tastes like rusted iron. _This is it. This is it_.

When the metal door slides open, he hears a scream, before a purple figure lunges at training dummy, ripping it to threads.

 _Keith_.

Lance doesn’t even see the face – he can recognize that mullet anywhere, even if it’s updated with a new blend of Galra genes. And the way he lunges, it’s so agile, so fast and _Keith-_ esque, he finds himself frozen in place, slowly growing numb.

Pidge notices Lance’s reaction and their eyes widen with a tepid realization. “Is that….”

“It’s him.” Lance has never sounded so sure of anything in his life, and the words are tight on his chapped lips. “It’s Keith.”

Pidge accidentally drops their bayard in surprise, too slow to grab it in the air, and the resounding clank of metal against metal rouses the two Galra to their attention.

“Oh?” The taller Galra questions ( _the one from before_ , Lance notes with gritted teeth), feigning surprise at the two paladins. “It appears we have some _visitors_ for you, Keith. It’s time for you to put that practice to use.”

_Practice? What does he-_

There’s a blur of movement before Keith is sprinting towards them, fangs bared viciously with a howl. He looks so angry, almost _bloodthirsty_ , and Lance is frozen in place, gripping his bayard much too tightly but unable to do anything with it-

Pidge shoots their bayard straight at his knees, which he rolls away from with ease before gripping the tight wire in his claws ( _claws?_ ) and yanking on it harshly. There’s a yelp of surprise as Pidge is thrown forward onto their knees, still gripping the handle, and they push a button near their thumb, forcing the wire to retract back to the base.

Keith lets go just in time, eyeing Pidge with a ferocity that freezes Lance’s blood. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a happy reunion, where Lance could save Keith from this hellhole and bring him back home, where-

There’s another purple blur that skids past his vision, aiming straight for Pidge, and it tackles them with an almost bone-cracking intensity onto the ground. Pidge howls in pain, their glasses thrown aside and shattered in the distance, and before they can react Keith’s pinned their arms down, staring at them like fresh prey.

This can’t be Keith. Keith liked fighting, sure, maybe a little too much for Lance’s liking, but he would never lash out so violently, especially against someone as innocent as _Pidge_. _This isn’t…..how this was supposed to go….._

He can feel wetness surrounding his eyelids as Keith bares his fangs one last time, ready to pounce –

\- And then Pidge whines with absolute fear, staring Keith straight in the eyes, quivering under his weight. “ _Don’t do this_!” They beg, with a voice so shattered Lance can hear the pieces of it falling on the floor. “ _Keith! Please_!”

Something changes in Keith’s eyes, a look of _recognition_ , and his claw stagnates near Pidge’s throat. His ears twitch downward, and his jaw soon follows. Lance thinks he can see his hands shaking, thinks this nightmare can finally end before it goes too far, and he can feel his legs warming up with blood, ready to swoop in and save the day.

That’s when it happens.

That’s when Lance hears the most painful, feral _scream_ come out of Keith’s mouth as his body convulses involuntarily, electricity bouncing off of metal around his neck and infecting his veins with a searing pain Lance can’t bear to imagine.

The electricity is gone in an instant, and Lance hears the echo of a throaty laughter in the distance. “What are you waiting for, Keith?” The commander purrs, and Lance quickly pieces it all together, feels so _furious_ , so _fucking angry_ , wants to rip that Galra commander into a million pieces-

But he sees Pidge block a swipe from Keith, and his heart sinks to the ground. The intensity in his eyes is back, as well as the skillfulness of his attacks, and Lance can’t believe it’s come to this.

“STOP IT!” Lance throws himself at Keith, who has all but forgotten about his presence, knocking the Galra away from Pidge and onto the ground. He growls back reflexively, swiping recklessly against the force on top of him, and Lance just barely dodges the sharp edges. He redoubles his efforts on pinning Keith to the ground, because he just needs to knock some sense back into him, remind him of who he really was before all of this weird _brainwashing_ shit, but Keith refuses to go down easily, thrashing back against his arms with reckless abandon.

“What are you _DOING_?” Lance spits in his face, because he can’t hold his tongue back, not when he’s so angry and confused and frightened and _heartbroken_ over all of this. “This isn’t you, Keith! Why are you fighting us?”

Keith throws Lance off of him, onto his back, and he lunges for the skinnier boy’s chest, only to be deadlocked in place by the other trying to kick him off. “You abandoned me!” He howls back, tongue lashing out wildly, and the words seem to make Keith stronger as he pushes more and more towards Lance. “You left me all alone, in this _prison_ , because you never cared about me, none of you did-“

“That’s not true!” Lance can feel his own tears leave hot trails on his cheeks. “We never abandoned you! I swear, Keith, we spent every day looking for you, I _cried_ over you so much, but now we found you, and we’re going to bring you back!”

There’s that same flicker in Keith’s eyes from before, the same recognition that makes him loosen his grip, but he’s still pushing, still incredibly resistant to the words thrown at him. “What do you mean, you _cried?”_ He sneers, vicious but unsure, and he makes an absentminded swipe at Lance that he barely has to dodge.

“I mean what I said, Keith!” The other flinches at the sound of his name and Lance takes the opportunity to throw him back, able to pin his left hand to the ground. Keith kicks out from under him, still able to swipe with his right, and Lance focuses most of his energy on forcing down the clawed hand away from his own face. “There were so many missions where I thought we had finally found you and you wouldn’t be there, and it hurt every goddamn time, because you’re supposed to _be here with us_!” His voice cracks and Lance throws away the remnants of his pride. “You’re one of us, Keith, you’re our Red Lion, our right arm, our reckless _idiot_ , and we would never abandon you!”

Those yellow eyes stare at him, a thousand emotions muddled in a blur of gold confusion. He’s fighting back, but Lance easily pins him now, and all he can do is stare and bare his teeth. “I’m _not_ one of you,” he hisses, and the pit in Lance’s stomach flops at how earnestly he says the words, like he truly believes them. “I’m a Galra. I’m your enemy. I’m evil, the Galra are _evil_ , this is who I am now-“

“SHUT UP!” Lance puts all of his weight onto his hands, pushing Keith into the cold metal floor. “You may be Galra, but you’re not evil, you dumbass! You’re Keith, you’ve done too many good things to be evil, you’ve saved galaxies and you’ve saved my ass more times than I want to admit and you’ve cooked with Hunk to help him feel better even when you didn’t want to and fuck, _fuck_ , stop saying you’re evil, I wouldn’t care about you so much if you were evil!”

He can feel the weight of the tears leave his cheeks as they drip endlessly into Keith’s face. They’re hot as they leave his skin and he wonders if they burn Keith’s cheeks just as much as they do on his own.

They must be, because Keith’s eyes are watering up too. There’s no fight anymore, just tears and warmth and too much quivering on both sides.

“Y-you….” His lip tremors under the weight of his own question. “You…care about… _me?”_

Lance smiles. God, does he smile.

“Of course I do, Keith. I care about you so much, more than you’ll ever know.” Another tear falls on Keith and Lance watches as it rolls down the side of Keith’s face. “I was so scared to tell you, I’m so sorry I was. I just….”

Lance is thrown off of Keith and that blood-curdling scream is back, the electricity is back, the pain is back and Keith is flailing again, clawing at the metal on his neck futilely, and Lance can see burn marks spreading across his chest, down from his neck-

“PIDGE!” Lance swipes his discarded bayard from the ground and forces it into its weaponized form, glaring at the Galra commander, who cackles from the control panel. “Get that collar off of Keith NOW!” He doesn’t turn back to see if they heard. He can’t, not when the sight before him is so agonizing. Not when his blood pounds against his skin, forcing him to see red and grit his teeth.

Recklessly, he aims his bayard and charges. Then Lance lets loose a blast that barrels towards the commander, who is too stuck in his own egotistic fit to notice.

It hits him straight in the face, and he howls violently as he staggers backward. Lance leaves him no window to recover and he keeps shooting rapid-fire blasts at him, running towards him, blinded with rage. Lance wants to tear him to pieces. He wants him to _burn_.

The commander wails on the ground as the shots pierce through him, pulsing out spurts of blood, and Lance stares at the mess before him, sickened by the gruesome sight, but more sickened by the wail of pain that will ring in his ears until the end of time.

He feels no sympathy as he points the bayard at the commander’s face, point-black, and blasts him away into oblivion.

There’s no noise after that. No more pain, no more screaming. The blood red hue fades from his sight and Lance regains his rationality slowly, remembering why he was here in the first place, whipping his head around to face the paladin on the ground. He swallows thickly at the sight before him.

Pus oozes off of his chest from reopened blisters. The skin around his collarbone fades from violet to a sickly grey to black. Pidge turns to Lance with panicked eyes, all but telling him _Keith is gravely hurt, we have to get him out of here, now_ , and Lance is by his side in an instant, gently throwing one arm under his knees and another around his back before lifting him up from the ground. He’s disturbed when Lance hears no sound of protest – Keith’s completely out, and there’s a chance he might not come back.

He wants to cry, so much. Lance can’t lose Keith, after he had finally, _finally_ gotten him back.

He almost succumbs to his own pain when Pidge shakes him out of it, glaring at him with a clarity that snaps him out of his thoughts.

 _Now is not the time for tears. Now is the time for action_. _Now is not the time for tears. Now is the time for action_.

They sprint down the hallway without a word.

It’s Pidge who has enough stability to relay the message onto the other paladins. They press a finger to the side of the helmet, and Lance hears the recognizable sound of microphone static.

“Prepare a healing pod for arrival – he’s badly injured, but we got Keith.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance is used to traumatic life-or-death experiences at this point.

 _That’s a sad thought_ , he thinks absentmindedly, but it’s pretty much true at this point. All of them – even Coran, somehow – had ended up in the healing pod, and most of those times had the unfortunate reality that they may not come out of it alive.

Somehow, they all managed to pull through, time and time again, but that didn’t make each incident any easier.

Keith was in _bad_ shape. Hell, that was the understatement of the year. Lance was aware of fact that he had probably been tortured, or beaten up, or (dare he say) _broken_ apart, but he never could have imagined this.

His chest cavity had morphed dangerously due to improperly-healed broken ribs and if Lance had landed a blow in the wrong place, it’s likely that his ribs would have pierced his inner organs fatally. _Thank God that didn’t happen_. There’s a significant lack of blood and basic nutrition, which shows in how skinny the boy has gotten since Lance had last seen him. He still had that taut, lithe muscle, but there was nothing for it to cling to and it warped around his body uncomfortably. There were new scars littered across his body, most notably one on his face – a long, thin slash that crossed from his left ear to the corner of his mouth, downwards until it faded onto his chin. The scar is purple and bleak and it reminds Lance of this new, Galra state that he hasn’t quite grown accustomed to yet.

Not that it matters to Lance. Keith could be a goddamn balloon animal and it wouldn’t really change anything.

Keith was still in critical condition, and Lance was prepared for the long haul. He spread out his blankets and cradled a warm thermos in his hand, sipping a tea-like substance from its warm confines, unable to look away from the pod itself.

He’d pulled through every other time he was in the healing pod, and Lance knew he could pull through again.

Quietly, as if he was afraid he’d disturb Keith from his healing, Lance puts the journal, some paper, and a pen on his covered lap. If he had to wait, he might as well make amends.

It would probably help when Keith finally woke up, at least. There was a lot of catching up to do.

 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks in, and there’s a problem – Keith’s ribs aren’t healing properly, and they’re turning dangerously close to his heart.

Coran and Allura are forced to take him out of the pod so they can transport him to a specialist. Lance isn’t sure just _how_ any non-Earthling can fix up injuries from a half-human half-Galra species, but it’s not like he has any other choice but to trust. That’s always something he’s been good at, anyways – trusting people when the straits were dire. It’s had both good and bad results.

He hopes this time, it’s the former.

He _needs_ it to be the former.

 

* * *

 

 

Its close, but they officially call the operation a success. Keith still needs to go back into the pod because there’s a lot of injuries that have yet to heal, enough that his body has forced him unconscious during this entire process.

Lance cries as they lay him back into the pod, and the cold mist of the cryogenics stings the trails on his cheeks as Keith goes back into submission.

Keith had once told him some advice that he himself struggled to accept – ‘ _patience yields focus_ ’. Lance isn’t sure what he needs to focus on, but he sure as hell needs some patience right now, so he tries to take the words to heart.

He lays down on the blankets and imagines the incoming tide of the ocean.

 

* * *

 

 

The most concerning injury of all was those burn marks around his neck.

According to the pod, they were healing fine, but Lance knew they would scar terribly. The flesh there was already convoluted gruesomely, gnarling his purple skin with bumps and thin, dead lines down from neck all the way to his upper chest.

The landscape of it reminded Lance of the desert.

Those were the scars of being alone.

 

* * *

 

 

_Soon. Soon. Soon._

Keith had long since stabilized. Vitality was returning to his darkened skin and although the pod couldn’t directly feed him nutrients, it repaired his system enough that he didn’t look so thin anymore. There was definition to his limbs and a hint of a glow surrounding his body.

He was beginning to look more like the Keith that Lance remembered. Sans the fluffy ears and the yellow eyes and everything.

Lance figured he would learn to love those too.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance is about to doze off against the pod when he hears it swoosh under his ear.

There’s a billow of mist and an unsteady footstep that glides against the ground before it loses balance, and Keith is falling-

-But Lance is there to catch him.

 _Finally_ , Lance can catch him before he falls.

He feels too light in his arms and Lance isn’t used to the dense amounts of fur that push between his fingers. Keith’s eyes remain closed, and Lance’s heart is beating erratically, unconsciously pulling him closer to his chest, in an attempt to make this all feel like less of a dream and more of a reality.

Slowly, the lids of Keith’s eyes flutter open, and they stare back at Lance with a tenderness that thumps his heart painfully.

But then Keith is screaming, and flailing out of Lance’s arms, scrambling to get as far away as possible.

“Where am I? What is this? Are you-“ The words trail off in his panic as he frantically scans the room, shaking under the weight of his own body, inert for too long. Lance instinctively feels hurt but he tries to understand, and reaches out a gentle hand towards Keith, open-palmed in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“You’re at the castle,” Lance murmurs, putting on the warmest smile he can. “You’re back home with us, Voltron and the paladins and Allura and Coran. They’re not here right now, but just wait a moment, I’ll call them down-“

“ _No_ ,” Keith growls before Lance can finish, and his feet start backing away from Lance. “This isn’t real. You’re not real. This isn’t-“

He starts hyperventilating, falling backwards, still scrambling towards the wall with eyes blown wide. His skin can’t decide between purple and pale white, Galra or human, and blotches of violet permeate his inky black hair, shifting back and forth with indecision. “This isn’t- _this isn’t-“_

Lance is around him in an instant, clinging to him like an anchor, catching him before he loses himself to the sea. “ _This is real, Keith. This is real. This is real_.”

Keith’s still shaking, but he’s not running away anymore. There’s a million thoughts and emotions coursing through him and Lance can feel all of their vibrations, trying to soak them up and drain them away from Keith.

“We’re going to take care of you. You’re not alone anymore, Keith. I’m here.”

They sit there like that, for God knows how long, with Lance holding Keith tight and reminding him that he’s ok, he’s here, he’s safe. The only sound that can be heard are the involuntary whimpers from a frightened Keith and the stable beat of Lance’s steady heart.

 

* * *

 

 

From that moment onward, Keith refuses to leave Lance’s side.

 

* * *

 

 

Reintroducing Keith to the others is hard, and awkward. There’s still a lot of anger in Keith’s system, anger towards a feeling of abandonment he understandably felt, and that abandonment is rooted in the paladins. With a lot of time and infinite amount of patience, however, they slowly begin to make progress.

It’s easiest with Hunk and Pidge because, as close as they all were, Keith was the least close with them. Thus, his anger doesn’t connect with them as easily, and before too long Hunk is urging Keith to cook with him and forcing him to eat up healthy dishes of food he seriously needs. Pidge, at Lance’s recommendation, gives him a device that sounds like the Earth’s ocean. It helps to drown out the thoughts that can overload Keith all too quickly, and he begins to carry it with him almost everywhere so he can plug it into his ears when he feels the anxiety coming forward.

With Coran and Allura, it’s trickier. The first time he saw them, Keith had a full blown panic attack, muttering fallacies about how _he was Galra, he was evil, he was their enemy and they should hate him_ – but of course they didn’t, and when Keith found himself on the losing end of a battle against his own thoughts, they sat there quietly and lent him their silent strength, giving him their presence and their understanding.

Lance doesn’t completely understand Shiro and Keith’s relationship, so he’s a little nervous when they finally reintroduce the black paladin to Keith. It catches Lance off guard when Keith reacts with full, unbridled anger, clearly holding himself back from the words he wants to scream. Shiro doesn’t need to hear them – he, of all people, _understands_ Keith’s situation, understands that feeling of abandonment and desolate hope. So when Shiro sees that fire flare up in his violet irises, he just nods and clasps a hand on Keith’s shoulder, trying his best to breathe through his nose and keep himself calm.

“I know what you’ve been through,” he murmurs through pursed lips, and when Keith stares at him with confusion, he just lifts up his metallic arm, taking the time to flex each individual finger.

Keith seems to understand. He immediately retracts with guilt, but Shiro catches him in a hug before he can get too far.

“We can work through this together.” Shiro grips him tighter and Keith purrs into his shoulder. “We’re better than them. We can overcome this.”

Its progress. It’s slow, arduous, and full of pain, but its progress.

 

* * *

 

Despite all of its hardships (and holy _fuck_ is it hard), there’s some benefits that come to this whole situation.

For one, Keith all but refuses to leave Lance’s side. Eating, sleeping, training – the only time he allows himself out of Lance’s sight is when he has to shower or use the bathroom, but he’s always back in an instant, cling to Lance’s sleeve, so much that there’s little slits where his claws accidentally grasped too hard.

It’s cute. Keith is being unequivocally cute when he clings to Lance, and he takes advantage of this, familiarizes Keith to himself to help remind him of where he is.

They’re on Lance’s bed, cross-legged, facing towards each other. Lance reaches out a palm, aiming for Keith’s, reading his face for consent. With slight trepidation, Keith nods, pupils blown wide, and Lance gently grabs his palm, dragging it closer to his own body.

He looks to Keith again, waiting for a nod, and upon seeing it he places the hand on his shoulder, feeling the hand tense up at the contact. “This is my shoulder,” he murmurs rather obviously, and normally Keith would bite back at such a condescending comment, but he’s too shellshocked by his experiences to notice anything other than the sharp curve of shoulder blades under his fingers. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah,” Keith offers breathlessly, slowly allowing his finger to glide over the edges of bone. “You’re really…..bony. And your shoulders are….” He lets his fingers stall over the edge of his arm. “They’re very strong.”

Lance can’t help but flush at the comment. Everything about this is so warm, so oddly intimate….but it helps Keith to remember him, to remind himself that he’s here with Voltron now, and it’s that thought that makes him flush red more than anything.

Slowly, he guides the hand to the side, allowing the soft threads of cotton slide under Keith’s hand, until they finally rest on Lance’s chest, where his heart thumps loudly against the fabric.

Keith presses against it, spreading his fingers wide, and looks up to Lance with worry. “It’s fast,” he gasps, his jaw lingering open. “It’s beating really fast.”

“Yeah.” Lance swallows the large amounts of spit that is pooling in his mouth. “I guess you do that to me, huh.”

Keith’s hand sputters back and he gapes at Lance with disbelief. “This is my fault? I didn’t mean to-“

“No no no no,” Lance rushes to reel Keith back in, pulling the hand back onto his beating chest. “It’s ok. This is a good thing. A great thing, actually.”

He can see Keith’s throat bob as he swallows. “It is?”

“Yeah.” He looks back up to Keith’s eyes, muddied with nervousness, and he silently asks for permission again. Keith apprehensively nods.

His heart sputters alive once more and Lance presses the palm firmly against it, leaning his upper body forwards, towards Keith. Lance leans closer, closer, still looking at him, allowing Keith to push him away at any moment, but Keith never does, he just accepts all of this with a nervous warmth, even allowing himself to lean forward slightly, until Lance’s forehead meets his own, pressing against each other, sweaty and burning up, burning alive.

Keith never looks away from him, just leans into the touch. When Lance raises a palm towards his cheek, he presses against it eagerly. The skin is as soft as snow, and Lance wonders how anyone could want to hurt something so tender, so beautiful.

“Is this ok?” He checks in again, and he feels a nuzzle against his palm.

“Yeah.” When Lance dares to look down at that face, he sees a light blush dusting across the bridge of his nose. He notes that it makes the scar across his cheek look almost kissable.

“Your heart. It got faster.” Keith looks up to him, and they make eye contact, lost in each other’s worlds.

A chuckle bubbles out of his throat, and Lance lets the widest grin spread across his own flushed cheeks. “I’m just happy that you’re here. With me. It’s…..something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

Lance can see stars explode in Keith’s eyes, and he grins wider than a supernova, threating to suck Lance in permanently. “I have, too.”

Neither moves, they just embrace like that, foreheads flushed against each other and grins held wide, anchoring themselves to each other. There’s no fear, no anxiety – just a lost connection finally coming alive.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith always sits next to Lance at team dinner. Whoever sat to his right shifted from day to day – usually it was Hunk, who was the one he felt most comfortable being around physically, but sometimes Allura or Shiro will take the seat and tell him amusing stories about weird alien planets they had saved, and how one time Pidge mistook a precious alien heirloom as a toilet and nearly caused an entire planet to turn against Voltron. (Pidge pouted the entire time they told that one.) 

Lance is busy telling a story, waving his arms ambitiously as he always does (Keith had long ago noted how Lance liked to talk with his hands). “And then, just as I was creeping up on the patrolmen,” he whispers dramatically, making everyone lean into his words. “That’s when it happens- **BOOM!** ” He shouts the last word, snapping his fingers with a punch, and Keith hears the blue fire, sees it blur in front of his eyes.

He lunges for Lance before he knows it, growling wildly, and Lance throws himself away just quick enough to avoid a swipe of his claw. Hunk wraps around his waist, holding him in the air as he thrashes desperately, yelling at him to calm down, _CALM DOWN_! Before the words finally hit his now-emerging Galra ears, and he locks up in cold-blooded fear at what he has just done.

“No.” Everyone stares at him, scared and confused, and he begins to hyperventilate again because it’s _happening again, he’s evil, they’re going to leave him again, oh God, oh no_ -

But once again, Lance is there to catch him when he falls out of Hunk’s towering arms.

“It was an accident,” he assures Keith before he can start muttering apologies of his own. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m here, everything is going to be ok.”

He’s heard so many of those words _so many times_ before, but the repetition helps to slow his heartbeat down and it helps to stop the rush of blood to his ears. Keith allows himself to get lost in the repetition, with Shiro and Allura and Pidge and Hunk joining in, reminding him that _he’s here, he’s safe, everything is going to be ok_.

Keith hears the sob thrust out of his own mouth, but does nothing to stop it, _can’t_ do anything to stop it, and Lance just presses him closer, repeating and repeating and repeating.

 _He’s here, he’s safe, everything is going to be ok_.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance is jolted awake by a piercing scream, followed by the thrash of arms to his side.

His blurry vision lands on a panicked Keith, pulling at his own hair, delirious with fright. “Stop it, don’t leave me, don’t leave me, _don’t leave_ -“

He throws his arms around Keith, shushing him quietly, gently rocking their bodies back and forth. “I’m not going to leave you, you’re here with us, you’re safe, and we’re not going to leave you.”

Keith thrashes, still lost in his own nightmare, but Lance hold strong, just keeps rocking back and forth, muttering reassurances, reminding Keith that everything is ok, everything is fine.

It takes a minute, but eventually Keith’s rationality creeps back, and he remembers where he is, stalling his weary body instantly. Guilt fades into the crevices of his face and before he can apologize, Lance _kisses_ him, pressing firm, assured lips against Keith’s quivering ones, pushing out all of his love into one swift motion.

Keith doesn’t immediately respond, still coming out of shock, but soon enough he presses back, slides his lips in place against Lance’s, allows himself to get lost in the blanket of care Lance surrounds him with.

It’s Lance who pulls back first, dark blue pupils blown open. “I’m sorry,” he quickly utters, slight nervousness lacing the edges of his words. “I should have asked, but I thought that would help, and I just needed to show you that….everything’s ok.”

“That…..” Any traces of the nightmare are all but gone now, and the sweat on Keith’s forehead comes from a newly heated passion that stirs in his core. “That’s ok. That was nice. I, uh….”

Keith, always better with action than words, presses his mouth back against Lance’s, drowning himself in bliss once more.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why do you always stay in human form?”

The shorter paladin turns to him with those powerful violet eyes, head quirked to the side. “What do you mean?”

Lance scoots closer to him and places a hand on his back. “You stay in Galra form when you think no one else is around. The moment someone else appears, you revert back to…the human thing.”

“Oh.” Keith stares down at the sheets on the bed, rubbing a piece of fabric between his thin fingers. “You noticed.”

“I said I wasn’t going to leave you alone, didn’t I?” Lance teases him by poking his side, which Keith swats away with an annoyed giggle. “And I’m not going to leave you alone. But you should also tell me what’s up.”

There’s an audible sigh from Keith, and he wrings his hands together, contemplating an answer. The hand on his back rubs gentle circles to help urge him on.

“I don’t want to scare you.” He turns to Lance, silently asking for reassurance, which he gives freely by reaching over and squeezing his clasped hands. “The Galra killed Allura and Coran’s people. They hurt Shiro and they stole Pidge’s family. And they kill people, Lance. I don’t want to remind everyone of that. It’s….better for everyone if I just stay human.” He turns away from Lance and stares hard at the pillow near the end of the bed. “Besides, I almost hurt you guys when I was in that state. I didn’t want to, but I did, and I don’t want you guys to have to live with that.”

He sounds so sure of himself and it hurts Lance to hear it. Gently, his palm travels down from his back to his waist, wrapping around it and scooting himself even closer to Keith. “So maybe Galra Keith and Voltron got off on the wrong foot. That doesn’t mean we can’t get back on the right one.”

Keith stares at him with an exasperated look. “Did you not hear me? I almost killed you. You can’t ‘get back on the right foot’ after something like that.”

“I think you underestimate the power of Voltron.” Lance leans into his neck, letting a hot breath brush across the soft surface, and Keith shivers at the airy contact. “I _promise_ that it’s ok. It might be a bit awkward at first, but give it a little time and we’ll all be making fun of your mulleted Galra hair just as much as we do your mulleted human hair.”

Keith shoves him away weakly, Lance giggling as he allows himself to be thrown back. “This is _serious_ , Lance!”

“And I’m being serious,” he smiles, but his gaze hardens, focusing on the scar that crosses Keith’s face. “We’ve done everything we can to help show you we care. Just give it a chance.”

Keith allows the words to settle in his skull, but not before Lance is ruffling his hair, sticking a tongue out endearingly. “Besides, I wanna see those cute ears of yours! I bet they’re super fluffy.”

He groans and throws his face into his palms, but allows himself to let go, lets the blotches of purple trespass his skin and the ears to pop out from under his hair until he’s fully Galra and fully vulnerable.

“Woah,” Lance whispers, and there’s a moment of fear where Keith wonders if it’s too soon, but then his ears are being awkwardly scratched and he’s purring unintentionally and _dammit, that feels really nice_. “They really are fluffy! God, I can’t believe I’m dating a cat.”

“I’m not a cat,” Keith groans again, but much more half-hearted, and with a grin on his face. “I’m an alien that can kick your ass.”

Lance just scratches harder, right under the ears, and wears his best shit-eating grin when Keith can’t stop fucking _purring_. “Alright, cat-boy, whatever you say.” He places a peck on top of his ears and they twitch embarrassingly in response.

 

 

* * *

 

Keith holds a palm out to Red with shaky confidence.

“Are you there?” He yells to the empty hangar, waving his arm anxiously back and forth. “I’m back. I’m sorry I left you, it wasn’t really my choice, but I’m back now, can you _please_ let me in?”

Nothing happens. Keith had a feeling nothing would happen.

He sighs, lowering his hand, and turns around to head out of the bay. If he knew Red (and despite all of this time, he _knew_ Red) – she wouldn’t like any form of groveling. Neither would he.

He just had to get stronger. Try it another day.

Just as he’s almost out of the door, he feels a small, but warm hum fill his skull.

It’s her. She’s humming in his head, very guarded, but just enough to let one message slip through the cracks.

_Give it time._

Keith was not a very patient man. But after everything he had been through, after all of the self-doubt and beliefs of abandonment he had felt in his isolation over and over again, he was still being awarded a second chance he wasn’t sure he deserved.

A tinge of a smile creased the edges of his lips. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and that’s all he needs right now.

 

* * *

 

 

“Lance.”

The taller boy looks up from his deck of cards, turning towards the small boy nestled under the crook of his arm. His warmth is palpable against the thin fabric of his shirt, like an open-hearth fire that Lance can’t help but lean into.

“Hmmmmm?” Lance smacks his lips with exaggeration, eyeing Keith carelessly. “Whatcha need?”

He feels the weight shift away from his arm, and it’s then that he finally notices how closed off Keith is. “I just,” Keith starts, awkwardly thumbing the fabric of his t-shirt between his fingers. “I don’t get it.”

Lance feels a serious conversation coming on. The deck of cards is placed on the table next to his bed and he leans forward, reining Keith back into his arm. “What don’t you get?”

A crease nestles itself firmly between Keith’s eyebrows, not daring to look Lance in the eye. “I don’t get why you’ve been so….’good’? Yeah. ‘Good’ to me throughout this whole thing.” He pauses, mulling over his next sentence, and Lance can see the tension form in his jawline. “It was a lot harder with everyone else, at first. It should have been hard with you. You should have been mad at me, even. I didn’t….” He scratches the back of his neck and turns slightly towards Lance, staring hard at his shoulders. “I didn’t leave you on the best of terms.”

 _Oh. Yeah._ All of that had been so long ago, Lance had completely forgotten about that. He had things to distract himself with. Keith probably didn’t.

Cautiously, he puts a hand under Keith’s chin, urging it in his direction until he’s forced to make eye contact. Lance can see the insecurity shaking deep in his irises, and he chews his own lip with guilt. This had all been his fault, after all – the fight, the lack of communication about how he felt, the mistrust between them. An idea pops into his head and plays itself out in his lips, curving upwards.

Now was the time to make that all better.

He gives Keith a quick peck on the cheek before he shoves himself off of the bed, aiming for his untidy desk. At the time, he had done this _thing_ more for himself, a way for him to vent his feelings when there didn’t seem to be any other option, but now he saw a second purpose in it, something he could share with Keith as well as himself.  

In his hand is a notebook along with a pile of scattered, slightly-wrinked papers, and Keith raises an eyebrow at him as he climbs back into the bed. “What’s all of that?”

Lance tosses the pile onto Keith’s lap and slumps into his side, grinning wide. “Now don’t get mad at me but I totally read your journal while you were gone.”

Because he was prepared for the inevitable reaction from Keith, he can appreciate just how cute Keith looks when he’s completely and utterly _pissed off_. He snarls his fangs (a habit he’s picked up since this Galra stuff happened, even if he’s in human form) and his eyebrows sink close to his eyes, knitted together with pure fury. “You _looked at my journal??!??!_ That’s private, Lance! That has _personal stuff in it_ -“

It takes a moment for it to hit, but once Keith realizes what sort of ‘personal stuff’ was written in there, and once he sees the subsequent shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Lance’s face, he loses his composure entirely.

Keith’s head is thrown into his hands and a new, embarrassing level of scarlet rushes to his face. “Oh my god. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. But don’t worry _babe_ , it comes with a present.” Lance pushes the papers on top of the journal closer to Keith, urging him to give them a closer look.

Not surprisingly, Keith refuses to look up from his own private, flustered mess. “I don’t need to be embarrassed any more, Lance, I already feel like I’m dying.”

“I’m being serious.” There’s still a sense of amusement surrounding the lanky boy, but his jovial expression hardens with passion. Leaning forward, he pulls the hands away from Keith’s face like petals from a closed flower, forcing him to look at the sun.

“When you were gone, I blamed myself a lot for what happened. Reading your journal made me realize just how bad I was about….well, communicating. About anything. I never wanted to confuse you, but I was confused about a lot of things myself, so I did a lot of things that didn’t make sense at the time. A lot of it still doesn’t make sense when I think about it.” Lance knows he’s rambling, but he allows himself a pass, and Keith seems too enraptured too care. He begins to thumb circles into Keith’s palms, both to reassure Keith and to calm himself down.

“Those papers are…responses, I guess. To some of your entries. I wanted to try and explain why I did what I did. I hoped that when you came back, I could have all the answers for you. I didn’t want us to fight anymore. The fact that you ended up disappearing after we were so angry with each other…..well….”

Anxiously, he shoves the papers into Keith’s chest once again. “Just read them. I think it’ll explain everything a lot better than I could.”

He gives the papers on his lap a closer examination, still allowing his hands to be soothed by Lance’s gentle grip. There isn’t a lot of them, only a couple of pages, and Keith notes that Lance’s writing is much more thin than his own – like he was writing as quick as possible, barely applying pressure to the lines. It’s arguably prettier than Keith’s own handwriting while simultaneously being much less legible. Keith doesn’t understand how a paradox like that can exist, but he figures that with Lance, anything is possible.

Reluctantly, he pulls his own palms away from Lance and lifts the papers on his lap closer to his face.

There’s a bit of nervousness that humms in the blood of his fingers as he flips through the pages, reading them closely.

 

* * *

 

_I’m just going to get this out of the way before you think about it too hard; the rivalry thing was absolutely legit. I hated you when we first retrieved Shiro from that weird Garrison thing. Once you left Garrison and they bumped me up to fighter pilot status (which I had worked hard for, mind you), they constantly compared me to you. ‘Keith wouldn’t have made that stupid mistake’, or ‘Keith would never have failed the simulation’, or this or that or bladdy dah dah. Let me tell you, it fucking sucked. I hardly even knew you but I already hated you. I wanted to prove to everyone (especially you) that I wasn’t some hack that got by because of a dropout. So when I saw you trying to play hero that one night, well, I couldn’t let you get away with it that easily. I wanted to prove I could be a hero too, even if I had no idea what I was doing. _

_So yeah, the first month or so of Voltron? Hated your guts. I wanted to beat you at everything. You made me so angry and I wanted you to notice how angry you made me. If you noticed me, and realized how good of a pilot I was, then all of those claims about how I was a ‘worse Keith’ could be destroyed._

_Things got a lot more confusing as time went on._

_\--_

_Why exactly did I jump in front of that bomb for Coran?_

_Truth be told, I’m still not entirely sure. It just felt like the right thing to do at that moment. My feet moved before my brain did, and by the time my brain moved I was waking up from a healing pod. You didn’t understand why I did it? Hell if I did either._

_((But if I’m going to be completely honest here, and I told myself I would, I felt like I was much more replaceable than Coran was. And if I’m still being honest with myself, that belief hasn’t changed.))_

_\--_

“You’re not replaceable.” Keith stares Lance dead in the eyes. “Don’t ever write anything like that again. You’re not. You’re……just _not_.”

Lance lets out a very annoyed groan, rolling his eyes drastically. “We can talk about that part some other time, just drop it for now and keep reading.”

Keith gives him one more hardened look, letting Lance know that he was absolutely going to bring this up again at some point, before he returns to the pages before him.

 

\--

 

_Dude. I NEVER forgot about the bonding moment. I dreamt about that shit for weeks._

_I just pretended to forget it because I was very confused and very very….something. I don’t know what. It was all very weird._

_But yeah, those arms are very good at cradling, my man. Let’s do that again sometime._

_\--_

_If I ever seem distant and weird out of nowhere, it’s probably because I’m homesick. Thinking about Earth…..is very difficult for me. Just letting you know._

_For the record, I loved it every time you reached out. It helped a LOT, even if you never really understood why I felt the way I did. Just having an ear that was willing to listen helped like, 90% of the time._

_P.S. My family would love you :)_

_\--_

_Just for clarification, at this point in our relationship I started getting VERY VERY CONFUSED about how I felt about you, and from the sounds of your journal, so did you :p. Sorry again that I was so bad about talking about it. I’m very good at unnecessarily bottling up my emotions sometimes, in case you haven’t noticed._

_You probably didn’t because I am a practiced expert on that, but now you know._

_\--_

_NYMA WAS A DICK AND I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW MEAN YOU WERE ABOUT GIVING BACK MY LION._

_I’M GLAD YOU HAD A GOOD TIME BUT THAT WAS A VERY TRAUMATIZING TIME FOR ME AND I AM OFFENDED THAT YOU CALLED ME AN IDIOT._

_((I miss you right now and I just wanted to write that down somewhere))_

_\--_

_I didn’t realize how much the wormhole incident affected you…I mean, it affected us all and I knew that, but I just….ah. I’m actually at a loss for words right now._

_You’re not weak. You’re arguably one of the strongest people I know. I still have my moments where I wonder if I am just a ‘lesser Keith’, and that sucks, but know that there’s a reason why that comparison exists. It’s because you’re so, so good at what you do. Just know that, ok?_

_I shoulda been there more for you and I’m sorry I wasn’t._

_\--_

_Haha, yeah, talking to you late at night wasn’t actually for your sake, it was kinda selfish on my part. I mean, it was originally intended to help you out, but you always liked listening to me talk for some reason and I always love having someone to listen to me so it worked out pretty well._

_Voltron is lonely without you_ _L. Our home isn’t complete when you’re gone. It’s your home, too, I hope you know that while you’re stuck with those Galra._

_Please come back._

_\--_

_You put so much pressure on yourself to not make mistakes. And I get it, I do the same thing, but still….._

_You do a lot more for the team than you realize. You’re always the first to lend a hand when someone needs it, for example. Pidge needs someone to try out their weird new robot gadget thing? Boom, you’re there, even if you’re paranoid about it and don’t really want to do it. Shiro’s having flashbacks? Boom again, you’re there, sitting with him through it all. There’s so many more examples that exist that I can’t think about._

_Just….when you get back, I’ll do my best to remind you that it’s ok to not be ok. It’s ok to screw up. We all do it, it happens, you’re not any weaker because of it._

_It’s a battle I go through every day, but I’m sure we can get over it if we just work at it together._

_\--_

_I DO NOT ‘OVERREACT’ WHEN YOU DON’T GET MY AWESOME POP CULTURE REFERENCES. DO NOT SLANDER MY GOOD NAME LIKE THIS. I ALSO DO NOT HAVE AN ‘ODDLY LONG NOSE’, WHAT THE FUCK KEITH? I’VE BEEN STARING AT IT IN THE MIRROR FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES, IT LOOKS FINE TO ME._

_But those compliments? I don’t think I’ve stopped squealing since I read them. You think I have nice haaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiir._ _:) :) :) :) :)_

_I’ll let you touch it as much as you want when you get back. Promise! As long as I get to touch your weird hair too._

_You liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike me. :)_

_\--_

_I didn’t ‘forget’ to take that moon flower back, by the way. Totally a subtle attempt to flirt with you. For once, I apparently was TOO subtle about it. I can’t believe this._

_\--_

_Every time you call yourself ‘weak’ I die a little._

_Stop that. You’re not weak. You’re strong as heck. As HECK. I swore for you. I can feel my mother’s disapproval from billions of lightyears away._

_That’s how strong I think you are. Strong enough that I am purposefully ignoring my mother’s otherworldly wrath._

_Believe me now?_

_\--_

_I guess I’m writing this down because I hope it will telepathically get to you somehow, but we WILL rescue you. I’m not going to let you get captured in some chivalrous quest for glory._

_This is your HOME now. We WILL find you. I promise._

_\--_

_I guess this is the part where I have to explain a lot._

_Jesus…..I’m an idiot. I’ll start off with that. I’m a stupid idiot who was in denial about my feelings for you. Why? A lot of reasons. I used to hate you, so much, and your mere existence caused me so many problems while I was at the Garrison. This may seem petty now, but God, it sucked…..some people literally called me a ‘lesser Keith’. Do you know how much that sucks? It wears you down. And even though that is looooong in the past, and even though that wasn’t actually your fault at all, I still had a grudge over it. It’s not easy to get over two years of shitty comparisons to a guy you’ve never met._

_That feeling of inferiority, I think, affected how I viewed myself towards you too. I mean, like, why would you ever like someone who people literally called a ‘lesser Keith’? Why would you like someone so un-extraordinary?_

_The flirting thing happened as a response to that. I figured if I flirted with other people, it could get my mind off of you, and maybe somehow magically it would also help me figure out my feelings towards you. I don’t know. It wasn’t a very well thought out plan, I mostly did it because I couldn’t bear to be around you when I had so many thoughts going around in my head. Not that I COMPLETELY regret flirting with those hot alien peeps, but I did it in a very poor way, and I’m sorry about that._

_I’m sorry that I was so confused and that I didn’t express it as well as I should have. That’s why we are in the mess we are now. I never knew….if I had known this would happen, I would have explained everything in a heartbeat._

_Hopefully I’ll get a second chance to show you that._

_I hope you’ll understand._

* * *

 

The papers slide out of his fingers and Keith rams his body into Lance’s, hugging him tightly with tears in his eyes.

He’s speechless. Absolutely speechless about all of this. He doesn’t know what to do other than to cling onto that thin, blue-sleeved shirt for dear life, and cry out everything. His tears carry away his insecurities, his doubts, his feelings of weakness, and more – and the Lance accepts them wholeheartedly, allowing them to melt into the cotton of his shirt as he holds Keith tight, tight, tight.

Lance buries his face into the crook of Keith’s neck, leaning into his ear with watery eyes of his own that Keith cannot see. “I’m not confused about my feelings anymore, Keith.”

Keith doesn’t react, he just keeps sobbing, letting the tears flow, letting everything that’s been pent up for so long flow out of his system and onto the one person who accepted his burdens wholeheartedly.

“Keith.” Lance presses the body closer to his chest and smiles a hidden smile. “Keith. I love you.”

He can feel the shudder that runs through Keith. It’s not a bad shudder, Lance already knows that – it’s one of surprise, of joy, of a thousand emotions that have no words attached to them. But he can feel the matching smile pressed against his own shoulder, and he knows that everything is ok, everything is going to _be_ ok, and that Keith is here with him, after all of this time, and he’s _happy_.

“Lance.” Keith leans into his ear, his voice much more shaky than Lance’s, and breathes. “I love you too.”

When fire meets water, it creates a steam that floats away, up in the air, up into the beautiful night sky.

When fire meets water, that steam creates stars that paint over the black with flickers of red and blue, eternally burning for all to see.

When fire meets water, the stars form signal points that help lead lost souls towards home.

When Keith meets Lance, he realizes he is home.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s still a lot of obstacles that Keith has to overcome.

The Galra are still out there, taking over the galaxy, enslaving civilizations and harvesting quintessence from unwilling people. Red doesn’t completely accept him yet, and he’s not as skilled with his sword as he remembers himself to be. He still gets panic attacks and nightmares when things get too overwhelming, and he still struggles with the fact that he’s not good enough, never _will_ be good enough for Voltron, and that maybe they should have left him on that damned Galra ship, found a new Red Paladin, moved on with their lives.

Then he remembers that he’s ok.  That the people here care about him, that they value him just as highly as they do each other, and that this is where he belongs. He’s never really had a family, but he figures he’s found one, out here in the middle of nowhere. Somehow, despite all of the odds, despite his newfound alien heritage and his lack of understanding of it all, Keith has found somewhere where he feels like he has a purpose.

He looks up towards a flower on his desk. It’s a moon flower, properly harvested and contained, casting an aura of blue across the walls.

It blooms outwards, glowing brilliantly, and Keith stares into the center of the blossom. It’s just like Lance said – it looks like the ocean.

The scars on his body melt away as he allows himself to be taken away by the waves of the ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> This took so long to write so I hope you liked it! I'm not sure if I like it myself so I just really hope you did haha. I have some other Voltron fics you can check out if you liked it :D
> 
> A BIIIIIIIIIIG thanks to @omgklance for proofreading this for me and helping me out when I was too tired! You help me TONS and they are also super nice so go tell them that or something idk 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @gigapoodle (main blog) or arcasangels (side blog where I post fandom stuff, if you want to message me message me THERE)! I love talking to people I might be a lil' awkward nugget but I promise I'm nice


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